The Music of What Happens
by RambleOn79
Summary: Sam and Dean know somehow Rowena is behind the release of the 'darkness'. What they don't know are her motives. With his world thrown into chaos again, how will Dean handle falling in love with a vibrant young woman named Kat and doing what he does best, taking down the bad guy? He discovers a hunter's normal. The question is, can he keep it? Or will he lose Kat like the rest?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is me attempting to write my first fan fic. I'm looking for constructive criticism on how to better it. I'll post the first two chapters now and based on the feedback I get I'll post the others in a few weeks. Welp, here goes. I came…I saw… I own nothing of this world.

* * *

It was raining, as Sam and Dean drove along the deserted highway; all rather typical for a run of the mill job. Except it wasn't. The idea that less than usual monsters were appearing across the country, coincidentally after the Darkness had been unleashed, was….questionable at best.

"So…what do we got?" said Dean when he broke the comfortable silence. It was odd to have a comfortable silence so soon after a climactic event between them. But somehow this silence felt understanding.

"We have two murders. Both drowned…nowhere near water." Sam immediately stated.

"Well if that's not weird I don't know what is. Are we sure it's not a ghost ship type deal, with the victims being linked?" Dean theorized.

"No, they have no relation. And trust me I've checked even the details we normally ignore. Nothing. It's either, entirely unrelated or nothing at all." Sam stated resolutely as he glanced up and blinked through the haze of rain.

* * *

The University of St Louis seemed to loom, like a cathedral in the rain and the students acting as gargoyles, guarding the space under awnings and bus stops. Armed with crime scene photos and a quick search on the internet, they'd found Professor Daldry. Despite skepticism from Dean and a remark about his "distrust of nerds" they hoped the professor would know something about the strange, faint markings left on the victim's ribcage.

"Bring back any memories of the good ol' days Sammy?" Dean jibed as they pulled into a spot in front of the Graduate Studies building.

"Considering I never made it past my Bachelors degree, no. I'm not sure I oozed as much desperation and misery as that kid." Dean swung around as he shut the door with a creak to see a lanky, withdrawn boy staring despondently at the cement.

"Well he looks like he might spontaneously combust. Maybe he's been to Hell, he may be more like you than you think." Dean joked pushing his younger brother's shoulder.

Sam chuckled forgivingly and said, "Not funny, Dean." The pair made their way up the claustrophobic staircase to the floor where professor's offices were kept. Dean sighed as if to say " _here goes nothing_ ", shot Sam a pointed glance and firmly rapped on the door they had arrived at.

A curt voice answered: "Come in." At the desk, sat an older man whose face was set in an unsympathetic grimace. "Agents Fogerty and Cook, I presume?" Sam and Dean flashed their badges in response. He gestured for them to sit at the chairs facing the desk.

"We're here to ask you a couple of questions about some unusual elements in our ongoing investigation." Sam eased. Dean, ever the bully, hastily pulled some crime scene photos from a folder he held tucked under his arm. "We believe that this killer is mimicking some sort of ritual. And those symbols, almost burned into the skin there, are Celtic." Sam internally rolled his eyes at his brother's blunt demeanor and said, "We hoped, that you'd be able to tell us what they mean and what they were used for. Maybe they held a supernatural quality that could have donated its power to the killing?" He added hopefully.

The professor's eyes widened at this. "You believe these markings had a hand in this man's death?" he asked skeptically. The condescending and cautious tone he used made Dean angry and Sam uneasy.

"I'm sorry gentlemen, I simply do not have the time to search high and low for the meaning of these symbols so you can catch a serial murdering monster. These creatures were ancient people's way of explaining natural phenomenon without the knowledge we have today. I will not sit here and entertain the belief in them."

Sam made to move forward, extending a hand to implore the professor as he said "But, sir, that's not what we—", But he was cut short by the professor extending his own hand resolutely and stating, "I think its best you leave."

Dean, not in the mood to coddle temper tantrums immediately got up held the door for himself and Sam and shut it unceremoniously.

"Well, that guy was a douche." He blurted.

"Yeah tell me about it. And now we're back to square one. We might as well ask around to find someone else who ca—"Sam's sentence was cut off by a small but resolute voice coming from behind them. The brothers turned to face the door of the office across the hall and saw a petite woman standing with her arms crossed over her chest.

"I can try to translate whatever you need." The woman regarded them with a rather amused look on her face. Her unruly, dark hair danced on top of her shoulders and her brown eyes held the warmth and tenacity of honey around edges of the iris. She extended an olive hand and simply said, "I'm Kat."

Dean stared at the small woman quizzically. She looked like she could be young enough to be in high school but her authoritative air struck him. As a reflex, he advanced a couple of steps and quipped, "And you're a student…or…?" Before his abandoned statement had settled in the air Kat raised an eyebrow, straightened up to her full height and walked purposefully up to Dean staring into his overlarge green eyes.

"PhD student and adjunct professor. So I am qualified if that's what your asking. Please step into my office." With painful deliberation she stepped slowly to the side and extended her arm to invite the massive men into her cramped office.

Sam and Dean stared at the most disarray that they'd seen since Frank Devereux. Rather than two chairs two separate piles of books sat adjacent to the desk. The desk itself was scattered with rolled up maps, graded papers and a small laptop. The walls were bare, other than even more books creeping up them in small towers like vines on brick. They sat, rather uncomfortably, on the books slightly hunched over. Kat tried to suppress a grin at the sight of the large men looking awkward leaning to one side elbows to knee, in an attempt to fit into the room. "So, are you always this condescending? Maybe I should take pity on Professor Daldry for kicking you out?" She said flashing a grin and taking a seat behind her desk.

Dean's charm returned momentarily, "Well if you thought that, I might have to charge you with obstruction." He joked. Kat opened her eyes mockingly wide and her mouth wordlessly formed an _o_ , "Duly noted." She spoke with that finality again. Dean was tired of the pattern of proving himself the day was taking on. He didn't respond but looked at Sam. Picking up on his cue, Sam offered up the folder, which she eyed with an adorable eagerness.

"We need to know what these symbols mean."

* * *

After an hour of work, Katherine was feeling very satisfied with herself. She'd managed to ascertain that the burn mark—for lack of a better explanation—was depicting a Kelpie. Despite her satisfaction she couldn't shake the odd sensation that there was something she was missing. She didn't question the validity of Sam and Dean's inquiries. But that realization in and of itself was troubling to her.

" _Kelpie's were shapeshifters. A horse, more specifically which could transform into a human and lure travelers to their deaths. Obviously by drowning." She had told them. They shared a looking that was both knowing and secret._

 _"So this marking describes the way it kills?" The taller one had asked. Agent Cook was his name? Kat had nodded turning back to her computer to pull up more files._

 _"What if a person wanted to kill it, the Kelpie? What would they do?" Kat raised an eyebrow but continued clicking._

 _"There's reference to silver bullets. However Scots seemed to believe that the bullet worked only if it were in its human form. To get it that way you had to 'control it'. Like, take its bridle. Literally grab the reigns."_

The memory faded as she pushed the crease between her brows as far into her subconscious as she could, continuing her lectures for the day.

* * *

Sam and Dean spent the rest of the day ironing out the details of the case. The creature the professor Kat had described. They still had no idea how to control its bridle" especially since it was probably in human form. And there were also no bodies of water in the metropolitan area. It was nearing midnight when Sam finally closed his laptop.

"I just can't wrap my head around the bridle thing." Sam said, exasperatedly. "This is something new man. There's nothing like it in Dad's journal. The last time we dealt with an army of long dead monsters, was Eve." Sam listed more for his own benefit, in an attempt to gtethe fatcs straight in his head.

"Well maybe we gotta start thinking outside the box. And maybe this is the same thing. Maybe all the monsters are controlled by the same person. You don't know that Rowena didn't have more up her sleeve. Do you really think she was in it only to ice Crowley?" counseled Dean as he stood up from the bed.

"You're right." Sam conceded.

"Always am." Dean joked. "But, we're definitely not going to get anywhere with Rowena tonight. So, I am finding a bar." With that Dean grabbed the keys to the Impala and left to cope the only way he knew how. Leaving Sam to cloud the shabby motel room with his thoughts.

The bar was crowded, full of students, doing things they'd probably regret tomorrow. Thinking about their simplicity made Dean smile nostalgically. He didn't know what it was but Rowena had a reason for removing the Mark of Cain from his arm. He couldn't blame Sam for trying to save him, but he was tired. Not tired in the physical sense but a mental exhaustion. He would never tire of saving lives, just the repetitiveness of evil. It would never stop. And he was running out of reasons that made life worth living.

He sat down at the corner of the bar, giving him the best vantage point. Old habits die hard, he thought to himself.

A familiar voice pulled Dean from his reverie. "What can I get you Agent?" asked Kat. Dean smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"So you're a bartender now?" he challenged.

"I'm a jack of all trades." She shrugged.

"Whiskey. Neat." Dean ordered as he motioned halfheartedly with his hands. She reached for the lowball glass reflexively, nimbly handling the glass and bottle. She swiftly placed it in front of him.

"Normally I would ask if you had a rough day…but something tells me you and whiskey are just good friends." She sighed as she poured herself a glass of the same. Dean appreciated her honesty. Her frank statement almost made it easier to see her. Her skin was like coffee with a hefty portion of cream; but the vermillion glass lampshades of the bar gave her warmth the fluorescent lights at the university stole. It was then Dean realized how pretty she was. She raised the glass she held in her small hands to Dean and they drank, finding solace in each other's presence.

When they finished he grumbled, "You got that right." She chuckled and poured another.

"Did you make any progress with finding our mystery killer? You know if he wasn't using folklore to commit elaborate murders, I'd have to commend him for being so well read." She said sarcastically.

"You have to respect his ambition." Dean retorted, raising his glass in a mock toast. A hand waving at the other end of the bar caught Kat's attention and she gave Dean a smile and went back to work.

He sat there for another two hours as the bar slowly emptied. Kat came over to refill his drink and they joked about mundane things, which was a nice alleviation of stress.

Dean heard the sound of last call and saw the remaining students start to pick up their tabs. Dean laid two twenties on the bar and grabbed his jacket. Debating whether or not he should be responsible and just go home. It was almost laughable that he was even debating it at all, knowing full well what his decision would be. He turned to see Kat at his end of the bar eyeing him.

She grabbed the twenties off the counter and slid them slowly into her pocket never deviating her eyes from his.

"So…you wanna be an upstanding citizen and walk me home?" She flirted tactfully.

Dean grinned charismatically and crooned, "You know…I think I do."

As soon as they reached the door of her apartment they skillfully locked their lips and slid through the door without seeing. Kat deftly kicked off her shoes as she removed Dean's jacket. It was something easy, which was a welcome change for her. It was something she knew she wouldn't have to worry about tomorrow and she liked him for that. The street light spilled through the window and cast shadows over the sheets. They finished just before sun rise and both Kat, and Dean fell into a light sleep. Only to be slowly awoken as it got brighter.

* * *

Kat woke first, stretched and gently sat up so she didn't wake him. She was a little embarrassed that all she had in her kitchen was coffee but then she shoved away the sensation because she realized he didn't seem the type to care. She looked at him for a moment as she pulled on pajama pants and a Led Zeppelin tee shirt haphazardly thrown on her floor. She noticed a tattoo the size of a golf ball rising and falling as he breathed. ' _Hot'_ she thought to herself and she cracked a grin.

The smell of coffee and the light appealed to Dean's senses as he forced his eyes open. Kat was not next to him so he dressed in silence musing on the night before. The apartment was not big, in fact it just consisted of a bedroom and a small kitchenette down a tiny hall. He didn't take much notice of the surroundings because he honestly didn't care to.

"Hey." Kat casually greeted as he walked through the door and sat down at the collection of mismatched table and chairs.

"Hey. He replied." She handed him a mug of coffee and sat down across from him. "Led Zeppelin?" he praised, motioning to her t-shirt.

"Part of my rebellious phase." She shrugged and smirked at him.

Dean nodded knowingly, "Well it's a good choice for a rebel." He sipped his coffee and saw Kat's face over the top of the mug. She looked like she was torn between saying something and not. Before Dean could ask however, she spoke.

"So you know I was thinking…you said the bodies were found near storm grates right?" She asked tentatively.

Dean knew Kat was obviously intelligent and leaned in with interest, murmuring "Mhmm."

"What if he's thinking outside the box? There aren't any rivers or natural flowing water so maybe he's using the next best thing. It was raining really hard yesterday what if he's using the storm drains as a base of operations in order to be close to large amounts of water?" Kat felt a little ridiculous entertaining the idea that this man took some sort of benefit or power from water but said it nonetheless.

Dean looked perplexed for a moment, then completely understood her logic. "That actually makes perfect sense." He breathed. He immediately whipped out his phone. "I'm gonna call my partner so he can get a head start on that theory." Dean explained as he stood to call Sam. "I'll probably have to go and meet him." He added, unsure of what Kat wanted from the morning after.

She smiled deviously and said, "Good, I was beginning to think you were going to stick around."

Dean shot her a daring look, phone pressed to his ear, mouthed _'ha-ha'_ and Sam's deep voice crackled at the other end of the phone.

"Dude where are you?" Sam demanded. Dean could tell he'd been up just as late as he had, except he hadn't had nearly as much fun.

"Hot professor, is also hot bartender." Dean explained simply.

"Oh." Sam breathed in understanding

"But that's not important, I'm at her place now and she had a really good idea about the 'Kelpie'." Dean said the word carefully because of his unfamiliarity with it. "I'm gonna grab my stuff and head back to you."

"Awesome." Sam muttered as they both hung up.

Dean turned around and walked back into the kitchen. He stopped, and surveyed the room skeptically.

"Kat?" He called. He bent down and picked up her coffee mug from the floor. In the center of its splattered contents Dean saw an imprint mirroring the one that had been stamped into the first victim. And it was then he knew that she was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

* * *

Kat awoke to darkness. She heard the torturous dripping of water bouncing off of cavernous walls as she feebly struggled against her bindings. The bonds didn't feel like rope; when she twisted her hands she felt something smooth ripping at her skin. Her eyes searched for any light to collect to get her bearings. When she finally found a small reflection and adjusted her eyes to the dark she cringed in horror.

She understood where she was. Underground…in the sewer. Between the feelings of incredulity and hopelessness she began to more frantically search for a way out. She didn't doubt the agents but how long would it really take them to find this specific storm drain. The more her mind raced the more hopeless and desperate she became, finally emitting little noises of struggle; seeking any outlet for her crushing anxiety.

"Awake are we?" a shrill voice coddled. Kat twisted desperate to find the source of the disembodied voice. Again, it sounded from the darkness "Those imbecilic brothers are looking everywhere for you."

Unwilling to show confusion and therefore weakness, Kat stomached her fear as best she could. She wouldn't rise to the bait. She knew anonymity was her best bet at survival. In her head however she bounced between thoughts like nerve endings sparking. _'Brothers', 'Shouldn't there be more than just them', 'Are they here alone'?_

Slowly a slim but muscled figure appeared from the shadow. He was seemingly human. Kat thought it was the darkness playing tricks on her because she saw eyes far too big for any human face thin into slits, staring at her with what she could only describe as lust. The hair, was also not human, it fell in wiry sheets, fraying at the end almost…almost like a horse. At this realization she screamed; because she was scared and also feared she was losing her mind.

"Now that won't do. I need you to use your words Katherine." It barked. It advanced and she kicked her legs in an attempt to keep it at bay. "I need you to tell me exactly what you told those boys about me."

Kat stopped, as if she had been paralyzed. She felt the oddest sensation of water trickling UP her leg, not down it. The sensation sent chills up her spine and she attempted to kick it off. What she did manage to scrape away, just came back and worked its way around her entire body. The ultimate panic sparked her brain once the liquid reached her throat. She began to gurgle, drowning in the water. Tears escaped her eyes as she gasped at what air she could find.

"Now, Katherine. And I'll make this quick."

* * *

It took Sam and Dean an hour to, weasel their way into the county clerks office and get hier hands on a blueprint of the sewage system. They drove, furiously in a routine silence. As mucha s neither of them wanted to admit it, this type if thing happened more often than not. It had been eleven years since Dean had gotten Sam from Stanford and it seemed they had lost more than they'd saved. Maybe it was selfish because in reality they both knew the only people they had lost were the ones that meant something more to them than a job. That the people they saved far outweighed the fallen but to them, the loss of their friends seemed almost not worth the victories.

They pulled the car up to the water works reserve hoping that some luck would come their way and the monster would be keeping her in the first one they checked, seeing as there were only two in town.

After 15 minutes of wading through god knew what Sam threw out his arm to stop Dean. He nodded towards the fork to the left of their path and Dean listened. It was then he heard the faint voices coming from about 50 feet away.

" _How could I have told them anything? I don't even know what you are?"_ Spat the voice Dean recognized as Kat's. He could hear her resolve slipping.

 _"I'll say this again Katherine…that is neither the truth, nor the answer I want to hear."_ The brothers then heard a horrifying sound. Kat's gasping, coughing, and struggling against the water in her throat.

It was Sam that ran first down the stone hall, bursting in, gun held high, pointed at the creature. Dean followed suit.

"Finally! I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to come and claim your damsel." The Kelpie exclaimed circling behind Kat, probably for protection because he knew the Winchesters would never fire at the victim.

"Yeah? Well we're here now. Why don't you come out and fight fair?" chided Dean as he stepped forward.

"No can do, Dean. I need to stay alive you see, I've been hidden away in purgatory for a long time." The monster gushed gleefully.

Sam knew they had to keep it talking in order to distract it long enough to get a shot. "So, how'd you break free?" he prodded. Shooting Dean a microscopic look; he flitted his eyes to the right, signaling him to circle around towards its back.

"Well you should know Sam, it was your deal with Rowena after all." Both brothers stopped momentarily knowing now, it was imperative they keep it talking.

"Huh." Sam grunted, bemused. "So the Mark of Cain cut you loose?" He finished

"Correction: it cut the Darkness loose. And she is what gives all us pagan's power." It was after that, Dean remembered Kat was hearing this exchange. Her eyes were wide with incredulity. He'd seen the look on many people before and he felt instantly sorry she was the next person who they exposed to the truth. "Imagine my surprise…" it continued, "that while carrying out my orders from her, I find you two on my tail. Rowena will be so pleased that I'll be able to present you to her on a silver platter."

Everything happened so quickly Kat could barely take it all in. The Kelpie galloped from behind her towards Sam. Its elongated legs and large muscular chest looked oddly balanced as it swiftly charged, hair flowing like a horse's mane. A shot rang out from her left. She looked and saw Dean, gun erect having just fired the shot into the Kelpie's left thigh. It yelped and turned on him as Sam regained his composure. Kat struggled, and in her writhing she saw a brass fixture on a leather strap hanging from its neck. Slowed down by the bullet the creature had only just reached Dean. It pinned him against the wall as she cried "SAM!" She wriggled one hand free, bringing all her body weight down on her right shoulder. She heard it pop out of its socket before she felt it. In the split second it took for the pain to climax, she pointed to her neck and screamed, "The bridle!"

Sam immediately knew what she meant and leapt forward. In one swift movement he fired a silver bullet into the creature's chest and ripped the leather necklace from it. It stood very still for five seconds and then, it whinnied, loudly echoing through the stone walls and making their ears ring. The Kelpie began to violently shake and water poured from its orifices; until suddenly, the whole thing was engulfed in it. With one last cry, it exploded out like water breaching a bulkhead, cascading from too much pressure.

Covered in what was once a living creature, and dangling from the ceiling by a leather hoop and her dislocated arm, Kat breathed, "Badass" before losing consciousness.

* * *

There was a vibrating rumble bouncing inside of Kat's head. Faint at first, it grew louder. Begrudgingly, she forced her eyes open a crack to see she was in a car. An old one, the type that were metal cages. The two men she had believed to be FBI agents occupying the front seat.

"So let me get this straight…You're not FBI…and monsters are real?" She wasn't really expecting them to be truthful, because everything that had happened previously had been a lie. What she had seen was too unreal to be a fabrication but if she allowed herself to be trusting of these strangers she had to have been more insane than she thought.

Sam and Dean jumped, taken by surprise her voice, but recovered well. They settled into their seats and prepared for the talk they'd had many times before.

"No we are not FBI. And yes, monsters are real." Dean stated bluntly without looking back at her.

"Why should I trust you?" She countered glaring, willing him to turn around.

"Because we saved your life, and what other explanation do you have for what you saw?" Dean reasoned. This time he did look into the rear view. What he saw was fear. It evoked a sympathy in him that was lost before. He was too involved in what the Kelpie had said about Rowena.

"Fair enough." Kat conceded; however, she was far from finished with the conversation. "I think my shoulder is dislocated."

"It is definitely dislocated. We'll fix it for you when we get to our motel." Sam interjected.

"So you're doctors now…Sam isn't it?" she said in an accusatory tone. She was furious that she had been lied to but honestly, she couldn't justify to herself why they'd tell her anything in the first place.

"We know a thing or two about broken bones. My name is Sam and this is my brother Dean."

"Oh, we're well acquainted." She acknowledged. "Is that like your M.O.? Come into town, pick a girl, wine and dine… then almost get them _killed_?" Her voiced raised a little at the end of her sentence.

"Well I'm pretty sure you invited _me_ back to your place." Dean retorted, secretly enjoying her spunk.

"… _Before_ I knew you hung out with archaic legends reincarnate." Sam smiled at her tenacity. Despite the subject matter he enjoyed that this girl was going blow for blow with Dean.

"What was he talking about any way?" She segued. "Who's this Rowena bitch and what Darkness?" Kat demanded.

"If we tell you, you have to understand that it's not something you can really walk away from." Sam said softly, regretting the fact that another citizen was about to be privy to the fact that her world hangs in the balance, yet again.

"I don't see that I have any other choice." Kat said resolutely.

They reached the motel fairly quickly, riding the rest of the way absorbed in their own thoughts. When they stopped Kat pulled herself over to the door, opened it, and cradled her arm in the makeshift sling of a flannel she'd found on her. She could see now it was Dean's and was grateful. The trio walked into the room, which was strewn with empty beer bottles and a box of pizza. A laptop sat on the table and on the other side there were two unmade beds. Dean's head perked up from depositing his bag at the foot of one when Kat let out an involuntary wince.

"We should fix that." He coaxed. She nodded and let him approach her. She was rather like a wounded animal, a quality she'd always relished. Dean gently removed the flannel all the while holding her arm steady. He moved with a quiet skillfulness and Kat thought that maybe those were his two most prominent qualities. He extended her arm forward gingerly and she shut her eyes tight from the pain of it.

"Ready?" he whispered and before she had even followed through on the nod he slipped it back into place with a satisfying crunch and the worst pain Kat had ever felt. She grunted and her eyes flew open desperate for something to latch on to for grounding. Even though the pain lasted for a millisecond she found Dean's gaze and was appreciative of the fact that he was there to help her.

"Better?" he asked cautiously.

"Much." She managed.

Sam came to stand in front of them like an officiant, crossed his arms and looked between them both. "So, you want to know everything?" He clarified.

* * *

During the time it took to tell their story the three people in the small motel room had shifted positions. Kat had sat on the further bed. Sam had taken a permanent spot at the table and Dean, paced back and forth in front of the bathroom. It was Sam who had done most of the talking. He started with Dean receiving the 'Mark of Cain' all the way up to its removal three weeks prior. Dean interjected only to justify himself, never to correct. He seemed uncomfortable with divulging something that had been a huge part of not only his life but his body. He crossed his arms; both protecting his chest and hiding the place where it had resided. Kat took this all in stride. Thinking herself crazy, but knowing deep down that this was truth. Unlike Dean she didn't interrupt, or make any sound at all. She stared at Sam with a stamina he hadn't seen before. He saw her hesitation, but also her strength. Finally, when he finished Kat said carefully, "So… the closest you've come to stopping her is what that thing just told you?"

"Basically." Sam admitted. Kat ran her hand through her extra frizzy black hair, noting that it was positively filthy.

Kat took a deep breath and on the exhale began to say the words she somehow knew would alter her life—even if it were slightly—forever. "Well, as much as I don't want to go Indiana Jones-ing through sewage drains, I'd like to help." Both of the men chuckled at that and she took it as encouragement and continued, "You could consider me…resident researcher…" she stumbled, looking for the proper wording and smiled, "I have access to innumerable databases and I know how to navigate them like the back of my hand. I'm not war worn, like you two obviously are. But I do know that I can't sit on top of all of the resources I do have, and do nothing."

Her eyes glowed with a resolute passion, and both boys knew, despite what they'd lost, they couldn't deny someone the chance to do what they could as they themselves did. They couldn't have stopped Charlie, Jo, Ellen, Ash, or Bobby if they tried. They would just have to make sure Kat's name wasn't added to that list.


	3. Chapter 3

The motel room that had seen all types of people welcomed Sam and Dean back to their makeshift home. They came back from the bar, where Kat worked. She had refused to take a day off, saying that she, 'needed to eat somehow'. Sam suspected though, that she needed to be away from the craziness that they had exposed her to, regardless of having a bum arm. Even amidst the unfamiliarity, they had gone to ensure she was safe.

Sam sat down on the bed, and sighed as he laid flat. "You know what Dean…I like her." He admitted almost childishly making the decision to let this newcomer into their group.

"She's funny." Dean allowed. Ripping off his boots with more force than was necessary.

"I mean, she's right she could be useful…ever since Charlie…" he trailed off and Dean picked up the silence.

"She's not the same." Dean said with finality.

"I'm not saying they are Dean. I'm just saying this seems big, maybe Eve big. We're gonna need all the help we can get and she _can_ help." Sam said kindly, but forcefully as he sat up to look at Dean.

Dean had positioned himself with his elbows on his knees, head in hands, like a Greek statue, concern etched on his face. "Just give me a minute, man. I'm trying to adjust to the idea of dragging another person into this." He sat in labored silence for another minute then stood up and grabbed his toiletries pulling out his toothbrush. Each movement he made was acting as if a different point had presented itself in his head and he worked his way through each one until he had finished his night time routine and was in a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt.

Finally he sat back down on the bed next to Sam's and said "We have to monster-proof her place tomorrow." Then, he flipped off the light.

* * *

"So what exactly are you doing?" Kat pressed as she tried and failed to look over Dean's shoulder to see the gray powder he was handling.

"It's voodoo, if you put it at all the windows and doors, certain creatures can't step over it." Dean replied.

"So you've got pepper, Sam over there has got salt…if I fling mustard at something will it melt? Should I collect an arsenal of condiments?" She said sarcastically, baiting them to laugh at the ridiculousness of everything she was taking in.

Dean did smile but simply said, "No." Not satisfied with this, Kat said dryly, "Horseradish then?"

"You know not that I oppose your sense of humor, but you're taking this better than most." Sam said from across the room looking up from the devil's trap he had just started. Kat, giving up on examining exactly what the boys were doing, sat on the bed.

"Well, I guess I have my profession to thank. You can't truly understand something unless you accept the fact that these beliefs were just as real to pre-historic Celts as Christianity is to its practitioners today. Ancient people had to have seen something to make them believe and I certainly just did. Doesn't mean I'm not thrown through a loop." Kat believed what she was saying, she just hid the true depth of her fear from the men before her. They were essentially strangers, albeit trustworthy ones. She hid away the falter in her expression as they kept working. She was anxious to learn as much as she could before they left. "So this Rowena…she's a witch, a powerful one, who wanted you to kill her son, so _she_ could be in control of Hell?"

"Pretty much." Said Dean as he began to pack up his supplies. He looked over at Kat who was sitting cross legged on the bed. Her curly hair was piled on top of her head and she simply wore jeans and a white t-shirt. He couldn't help but notice the way in which she stared without seeing when she was thinking. Scrunching her brows together and shifting her lips to one side, to bite on the inside of her cheek. _'Don't get her more involved than she is.'_ He counseled himself as he fiddled with the hex bag he had made for her.

"Well here's what I'm thinking…" she began, "…If I'm Rowena and willing to kill my son for control of a third of the universe, I'd kill a whole lot more people for the whole thing. But, to kill a boat load of people…I'd need an army." She finished, hoping that she wasn't making a fool of herself by assuming things about a world she knew nothing of outside of books and theory.

"She is definitely power hungry. Go on." Dean afforded her as he stopped and gave Kat his full attention.

"The Kelpie wasn't part of American folk legends obviously, and while there are some Celtic traditions in place because of immigration, I'd say it was brought here, by Rowena to build an army." Kat finished hoping the revelation she'd spent all night formulating wasn't something the Winchester's had already come up with.

Sam put away his can of spray paint and nodded in approval. Dean slow clapped his hands in jest and they shared a smile as they playfully mocked her. "I'm glad you convinced me to keep this one around Sammy." said Dean sarcastically.

"Oh, please." Kat said as she stood and fed into their joke by taking a small bow. She crossed the room to pass by Dean, slowing slightly to whisper, "You couldn't resist me if you tried Winchester." And with that triumph, left the room to order food. She had only meant to goad him, because Kat really wasn't looking to get herself into more of a mess than she already had, but damn if he wasn't fun to play with.

* * *

Throughout their meal of pepperoni pizza, Sam and Dean had taken Kat through the basics of protecting herself. They gave her a silver knife; a flask of holy water and a small amount of holy oil. Although she was going to be 'riding the bench' as they put it, she didn't disregard their guidance. She was getting tired of being the student however, because her pride didn't like feeling like the least intelligent person in the room.

Allowing herself to embrace this less than positive quality she interjected, "So maybe it's time for me to teach you all something?" She raised her eye brows and hid behind her dripping slice of pizza. She gauged their reactions before continuing, "Basically what I am to you guys is a library…"

Dean held up a finger to silence her and said, "We already have a library. You're the librarian." He smirked as Sam threw his brother a scolding glance.

Kat took a deep breath and said, "I'm gonna take that as a compliment," not allowing her train of thought to be derailed, "I can set up files on your computer so that you have access to the same databases I do so you can see what I see if or when I find something. But, I need to use the library's network on campus to access it…and its Sunday so it's closed. " She finished.

Dean glanced at Sam as they shared a knowing look. "So?" Dean questioned with an air of impatience.

"While I didn't take you for people who would break a sweat over a B&E, I figured I'd warn you first." Kat explained, taking a sip of her soda.

Dean clapped his hands together, rubbing them clean from his lunch. He leaned back in his chair allowing a booted leg to stretch beyond the table and gave Sam a satisfied grin. "Isn't this like a wet dream for you Sam? You and Captain Badass over there get to break into a library." He laughed devilishly as he got up to clear his place. Both Sam and Kat gave him an indignant look. Fueled by their reproving faces he continued, "Well come on you two, let's get ready to mission impossible our way into that library."

* * *

From an outsider's point of view, the three of them walking along would have looked kind of hilarious. Two very tall men on either side of a girl just over five foot, practically bouncing along to keep up with them. They kept their cool but she darted her head back and forth check their surroundings. Kat wouldn't have been so nervous but having Sam and Dean with her she felt conspicuous.

They approached the back of the building and Kat knelt by the window she is always able to jimmy open. Sam and Dean looked on incredulous while she worked. She stuck her leg into the small basement window and shot them a look. "Don't worry your pretty little faces" she coddled, "I'm going in to open that door for you." She gestured to the fire exit next to them and disappeared into the obscurity of the books.

A minute later the door cracked open, and the boys snuck inside.

"Ok…" Kat said as they made their way through stacks of editorials and old newspapers. Sam regarded the stack of New York Times dating all the way back to 1851 with admiration. "Give me your laptop." Kat demanded as they made their way to a table.

She furiously went to work on hers and Sam's computers. "Alright, so I downloaded the program that holds all of the faculty databases so now you can be off network when you use it. I also added the Motif-index of Folk-Literature. That will show us not only common themes in legends but how they connect. Also if they have any counterparts in similar mythologies. Finally, I'm adding a program that can connect our computers. When we both access it at the same time we can see each other's screens. That way we don't have to explain how we got where we did." Kat finished her end and looked up from the screens as she waited for them to load. Dean sat clearly paying no attention, staring at the ceiling. Sam looked on eagerly, thankful she knew what she was doing and he had someone who knew computers. Dean was definitely smarter than he gave himself credit for but sometimes explaining computer hacks to him was like breaking the dream state of a djinn.

"We should get you some of our books too. We've got stuff written by people who actually believe in the answers you're looking for. They might be more useful in your hands than mine." Sam suggested.

"Oooh. Spell books? Should I buy a cauldron…start reciting Macbeth?" Kat half-mocked. She heard her computer 'ping' and looked to see the download had completed.

"Double, double, toil and trouble…" quoted Dean sarcastically "We done here?" He was clearly getting bored, but Sam and Kat stared at him finding it hilarious that he had just quoted Shakespeare even in jest. Picking up on this, he added defensively "What? I read."

Kat giggled almost girlishly and Sam shook his head hiding his full smile. "Yes we're done." Kat said.

The three of them went out the back door, walking along in silence. Kat enjoyed the late April air whipping her face. Despite the tumultuous turn that her life had taken recently she was happy for some reason. Maybe it was just in this moment but she intended to hold onto it for as long as she could.

Once they were in the Impala heading back to Kat's apartment she broke the silence.

"So you guys are heading back home now?" Kat said a little sad to see her companions go.

"Yeah, back to Kansas." said Dean.

"How exotic." Kat quipped.

"I'll be back though, I have to bring you your books so we can get the ball rolling on this whole Rowena deal." He assured. He wasn't sure why he thought he had to comfort her at all. He wasn't ready to admit that it may be for his own benefit.

* * *

Rowena stood at the center of carnage. The bodies of twelve witches littered the floor and she smelled the copper of their blood floating in the air. She didn't relish the idea of getting her hands dirty but the destruction of the Grand Coven was a sweet victory.

She walked to the table in the gargantuan hall. The table was at the head of the hall made entirely of mahogany panels, the panels were draped with hunter green velvet curtains most of which were adorned with droplets of blood. Rowena pursed her lips at them and thought, _'unseemly'._ At the table were instruments of high witchcraft. She mused for a moment on the proximity of the items she had been denied in recent months. Being held captive by the Winchesters had been intentional, yes. She needed the Mark of Cain. Now that the Grand Coven was marked off of her to-do list for it she turned her attention to the crystals laying in front of her.

She positioned the amethyst, and rose quartz parallel to each other, just below the jade and in its center a low candle. She repeated an incantation and used her scrye to locate the Winchester boys. She saw them with a woman in a dimly lit bar. The woman was attractive her smile a little more familiar when lingering on Dean. The three people's voices echoed in her head. They knew she was up to something, though she was confident she'd remain ten steps ahead of them. The girl troubled her however. She pulled herself out of the world of floating images and called, "Carman!"

A woman peeked her head out of an open door leading into the rest of the estate. "Yes, Rowena?" She answered.

Rowena enjoyed the feeling of pride she had when she called and someone answered. "The Winchesters have a new pet." She spat. "Let's find out just how resilient she is.


	4. Chapter 4

Kat's sleep was so dark and silent she believed she wasn't dreaming. Then came the whispers accompanied by a faint light.

 _"Katherine….Kat…?" purred a painfully familiar voice._

Kate stirred slightly. Slowly taking in the room around her. It looked exactly like hers except it was bare. Her bed was all that remained. It was pristine, like it had never been slept in. As she stared around the room her eyes fell on a figure that she knew entirely too well.

Her chest became tight with sadness as she opened her mouth to speak. _"Why are you here?"_ she asked bluntly, too happy to see that face again to care about politeness.

 _"I am here for you, Kat."_ Explained the apparition.

Not satisfied with the answer, Kat pressed, " _But why…why are you here for me? I'm fine…I"_ Kat abandoned her sentence knowing that she was lying to someone who could see past it.

The ghost of her uncle smiled. _"I want you to come with me."_

 _"Uncle Mike, I can't do that."_ Kat whispered pitifully.

Her uncle shrugged and made to walk out of the bedroom door, just as he crossed the threshold he turned back to her. _"I'll see you soon."_ He promised.

As soon and he exited Kat awoke with a start. Left with only chills running up and down her spine; and her memories.

* * *

It was seven o'clock in the morning as Kat sat in the diner a few blocks from her apartment. The ceramic dishware that was universal to every diner was clutched in her hand. Its smooth surface brought her comfort, and reminded her of home. The ringing of her cell phone pulled her from her reverie. She jumped and started fishing around in her bag for it. The caller ID read Sam and she answered.

"Are you boycotting sleep too?" she remarked.

"I'm just an early riser." Sam began until he was interrupted by a groan from Kat, "I knew I didn't trust you." She grumbled sarcastically.

She could hear the smile in Sam's voice as he continued, "Listen, I emailed you the stuff we have so far on omens. Maybe you could give them a once over, brainstorm a bit, and when Dean gets there with the books you can see if any of them match creatures that Rowena would be likely to use as pawns." Kat heard a distant grunt in the background on Sam's end as he finished.

"Can do. Was that Dean?" Kat asked taking the last sip of her coffee and relinquishing the comfort of the mug and waved to the waitress for her check.

"Yeah, why?" Sam prodded.

"Tell him I don't get out of my last lecture until seven, so I'll leave the key to my apartment under the mat so he doesn't have to bring a stack of books to a motel, then back to my place" ordered Kat, who was now making her way down the front steps and back to her car.

"Sure thing," replied Sam "Talk to you soon." And the phone line turned to static.

Just as Kat passed a large tree a strong gust of wind kicked up and a flock of birds flew from its branches. The large squawking crows had been completely hidden even in the sunlight, which Kat found...off. They twisted and turned, flying together forming mangled shapes with their black bodies against the background of pale blue. Kat turned away, and began driving.

The sight of the crows had haunted her all day through her lectures. She had been distracted all day as hard as she tried not to be. The feeling that she was being watched pervaded her every step as she walked across campus to the faculty parking lot. In the clumps of students leaving their evening classes she thought she saw the shadow of her uncle between them, but every time she whipped her head in the direction her peripheral vision was, she saw nothing.

She was going crazy; or the stress of what had happened in the days prior was finally catching up to her as she suspected it would. Everything would be fine. If only she could make herself believe that. Kat was a little ashamed at the thought of Dean trickling into her mind. She was a little comforted that he'd be there even if it were just for a short time.

She pulled up to her curb and saw that there was no sleek black car waiting for her. Slightly disheartened she made her way inside. She went to the kitchen grabbed a beer took a swig and immediately started the shower, hoping the steam would clear her head. Just before she got in she turned on her record player, listening to its intimate crackle. She placed an ancient, off-kilter Ella Fitzgerald record on and returned to the shower.

* * *

Dean knocked on Kat's door before immediately reaching for the key he knew was waiting for him. He saw her car, but was slightly worried when he didn't get an answer at the door. He got the key from under the mat hand reaching instinctively for the gun tucked into the back of his jeans.

His suspicions were lifted when he took a few steps inside and heard the shower running. He saw an open beer on the table and the record spinning on its turn table. He smiled nostalgically at it, thinking of his own. In between the flow of the water he heard a quiet but strong voice, echoing the song being played. He stood still, so he could hear Kat more clearly.

 _"I'm talking to the shadows, 1 o'clock to 4, and lord how slow the moments go when all I do is pour…black coffee."_ Kat crooned deeply.

He was by surprised by how deep a tone could come from someone so small and how competent she was. The sound wasn't perfect but it was relaxing nonetheless. Dean pulled himself away from the sound. He made his way back to the door to get the books from the car, leaving Kat to another few minutes of privacy.

Kat stepped out of the shower feeling a little better, and happy to get back to the beer she'd left outside. She stepped out of the bathroom in tattered pajama bottoms and a tank top, to see Dean sitting at her table with his laptop and an open beer next to him.

"Help yourself." She muttered as she immediately went for her own neglected beer.

Dean smirked, charming as ever and teased, "I thought I deserved it after listening to you sing."

Kat was suddenly aware of how vulnerable she was in front of this man. When she had first met him she thought she would never see him again. Now she was intimately acquainted with him but in a position where she needed to back track. She felt like she needed to get to know him. She felt her damp, stringy hair seeping the horded water from her hair onto the straps of the tank top. She pulled it out of the way and took a long sip of her beer. "I will not apologize for a free show." She defended.

Dean looked at her and felt like he barely knew her. He could tell she was slightly embarrassed, but she did have a decent poker face. The longer-than-normal sip she took from her beer did not go unnoticed by him. _Is she nervous?_ Dean asked himself, and the thought her being nervous made him wonder if he should be. He didn't feel it though, strangely enough he felt very comfortable. "Maybe if you had a better set list you wouldn't have to. Ella Fitzgerald is a bit outdated isn't she?" Dean quipped.

"Is that any way to talk about the First Lady of Swing?" Kat raised her eyebrows daring him to continue. "What would you prefer?" She asked.

"Something with more guitar." He suggested. Taking this cue she walked to the record player and grabbed a musty sleeve from the basket on the floor.

"Led Zeppelin." Kat stated as she removed Ella and placed her back into her spot.

Dean's eyes lit up as he said, "There we go!" excitedly. He went back to his computer as "Good Times, Bad Times" played forcefully in the background. Kat went to the fridge for another beer and offered one to Dean. He picked up his bottle and gauged its fullness. He nodded, internally ridiculing himself for even thinking he wasn't going to drink another. Feeling he should continue the conversation he said, "What got you into old music?"

"Bunch of things I guess. My mom was a lounge singer so I grew up listening to her old recordings. My uncle was into classic rock, so that's always what would be playing around the house. Then, as always, there are a few favorites you get to stumble upon by yourself." She explained passively. It was then she noticed the books in two small piles at Dean's feet.

The first three titles she noticed were: _Common Threads in the Pagan Tapestry_ , _A Collective of Witch-Sanctioned Spells_ , and _Useful Properties in Warding_. On top, sat a leather bound journal. There were paperclips holding extra pages or notes and the edges fraying from frequent use. Its wear and tear is exactly what drew Kat to it. She reached out a hand to pick it up but saw Dean's almost imperceptible flinch and stopped.

"Is this yours?" she tentatively asked.

Dean didn't mean to react that way. It had been so long since John's death but he still felt a protectiveness over the journal. "It was my dad's. You should probably take a look at it. It might catch you up to speed on a few things." He offered.

Sensing that it was privilege that he allowed her to do that, she said "Ok."

* * *

A few hours went by, talking and going over the omens circling densely populated cities. Nothing was huge enough to attribute to the Darkness so they'd hit a wall. Frustration was clear in the air as Kat slammed her computer shut and ran her hands through her hair. It had air dried so it was wild and the curls bounced into her face, obscuring her vision. She thought she saw Dean smirk through the tendrils.

"I'm going to bed." She announced. Kat dragged her feet to her bed without waiting for a response and fell immediately asleep.

* * *

The dream came again but swifter than the first time. Kat did not have to question where she was or take in her surroundings. She did notice however that the apparition of her uncle had moved. He was now standing halfway between where he had the night before and the edge of her bed.

Their conversation continued the same way it had previously. Kat was forced awake, breathing heavily. She felt her uncle's voice still hanging in the air somehow transcending the dream world into reality.

In an attempt to clear her head she padded silently into the next room, looking at Dean sprawled out on the couch. He inhaled softly, it was hard to accept this state of safe, innocence because he was usually so guarded. She wondered who in the world had ever seen that side of him that she was the secret voyeur of right now. Sam, maybe? The father, who had clearly meant so much to him? She doubted there were countless women he allowed that close but she knew there had to be a few.

She opened the fridge and the light spilled out onto the walls. Kat filled her glass halfway with water and closed it almost as quickly as she'd opened it.

In the instant the light disappeared she saw a shadow. Her uncle that so far had existed only in dream or memory stood in her periphery. This was different somehow. Instead of being translucent, it seemed to occupy physical space. The fact that it was corporeal is what startled Kat. She gasped loudly and jumped so that her glass shattered to the floor. The loud crash had Dean standing, gun cocked, laser sharp glare locked on Kat.

"I saw- I'm sorry- I saw something. I had this dream…and I saw my uncle in it and I swear he was just standing there." Kat confessed breathily. Dean said nothing but moved with a surgical precision to turn on the light and clear the room, never dropping his gun.

He turned on Kat who stood isolated feeling like a child being chided by their parent. She didn't know why she felt guilty, she knew what she'd seen. There was something about his stare, so cold and businesslike that she missed the innocence she'd witnessed moments ago.

"Who was it?" He looked up at the ceiling in something resembling disappointment and amended, "…What was it?"

Stunned, Kat rasped "M-my uncle. He died last year and I dreamt of him last night and then I had the same dream just now. I thought I was just stressed so it was affecting me more. But, that…that looked real. Am I going crazy?" she finished incredulously.

"In our line of work crazy is relative." Dean said with as much sympathy as he could muster. He took pity in the lost look she had in her eyes. "Just sit down and tell me about it. What happened today since having that dream, until I got here? Kat recounting her day in excruciating detail not wanting to miss any shred of information that might be helpful.

They sat side by side. Dean listened to Kat as he looked around the room, making a mental inventory of all the monster proofing him and Sam had done days prior.

"Well, good news is, it's gone for now. Bad news is, this is probably something supernatural." He stated matter-of-factly.

"Perfect." Kat huffed and she reached for the remote. "You can take my bed, I'm not sleeping."

"I'll stay. Misery loves company." Dean joked flippantly.

Kat settled on a black and white western and was comforted by its grandiose simplicity and Dean sitting inches away from her already engrossed in the movie.

With Dean distracted, and losing sight of propriety she leaned her head very delicately on his upper arm. He didn't move his head. But his eyes darted to the mess of curls he could see out of the corner of his eye. He raised an eyebrow and continued to look at the small head, confused by her forwardness. It wasn't a welcome gesture but he accepted it. It was like she was barely there but, her proximity was grounding. He turned his eyes back to the movie and focused on the pistols onscreen firing rapidly as synapses in a brain.


	5. Chapter 5

Kat wasn't used to waking up disoriented. She thought she had only fallen asleep for a few minutes because the gun fire and train whistle blaring from the TV. She opened her eyes to find it was daylight and the sound effects were from early morning cartoons rather than an insomniac's western. She was leaning on the back of the couch, head resting on the top of it, legs pulled in to her chest. She heard a noise from across the room and haunted by last night's ordeal, she shot her head up expecting to see a specter of her uncle but instead saw Dean; placing the empty beer bottles next to the sink.

"Good morning" He chirped, taking no notice of the suddenness of her movement.

"I wasn't supposed to sleep" She lamented, rubbing her eyes and thrusting herself of the couch sleepily. She stretched her arms up as far as they would go and looked at Dean quizzically.

"The funny thing about humans…" he began, "…is that they have to sleep." He turned around to face her and stepped forward grabbing a paper bag from the fridge and plopping it on the table. "They also need to eat." He finished pointing at it.

Kat smelled melted cheese and bacon; her stomach immediately betrayed her and growled. She didn't want to dive in however. She remembered leaning her head on Dean's shoulder last night for comfort but didn't want to show her vulnerability in the light of day.

Dean opened the bag letting the full smell waft over the room and placed their breakfast sandwiches in front of opposite chairs. "You always have something to say. And since you're not, I can only assume you're not used to people doing things for you. But if there's one thing I can do, its provide booze and greasy food. So don't sweat it."

Kat deflected his psychoanalysis and just said, "Thanks." She sat down at the table and opened the package but waited for Dean to be seated with her before she ate. They ate the first few bites of breakfast in silence until Dean's phone started screaming classic rock chords. He deftly picked it up and greeted, "Sam. What's up?" Dean continued the conversation one-sided, never putting the phone on speaker. He eyed Kat as she ate her food timidly. He knew it was rude of him to keep her out of the loop but he was scared for her. He didn't want Sam to say something and worry her if there was nothing. If there was something, he would handle it; because he would be the reason it happened.

"Well we had an unexpected visitor last night." He paused… "No, it wasn't Cas" he scoffed.

"What's a 'Cas'?" asked Kat, suddenly intrigued. Dean rolled his eyes and said warningly but not without affection, "Oh you'll find out."

He stopped for a moment to let Sam speak. "No I think another monster's after her. Yeah man, maybe its pissed we killed its friend? It did say Rowena released them so maybe she knows somehow? Pissed we killed her goon? I don't know." He paused again, this time for a little longer. "Yeah, this just means I'm staying until we're all safe here. You just handle Cas, get him back to fighting weight and I'll handle this pint-sized problem." He remarked, looking to Kat for her reaction. She rolled her eyes, raised a brow and grimaced playfully. "Ok. Bye."

"Kind of a blasé goodbye isn't it? I mean, with what you guys do? You just never know" she observed.

"Sam and I have both died…multiple times. We're still kickin'. If anything, goodbyes are something of a strong suit." He revealed.

Kat was beyond fascinated. She practically had to bite her tongue to keep from asking for more information. She knew Dean had a lot of secrets, had seen a lot of shit. It was one of the first things she noticed about him but that was definitely a conversation for another time.

"Remind me to ask you all about that, when my own life isn't in danger…ok?" she demanded.

"Will do." Dean knew it was a false promise but he jokingly saluted anyway.

* * *

Kat cleared away the remains of breakfast quickly, hoping to clean the apartment a little while Dean was in the shower. She buzzed around as fast as could but she felt weighed down by the uncertainty of being hunted. Her uncle's passing had already been a fresh wound but having his memory stained by something monstrous, she just couldn't shake.

After her work was done she sat down at her computer and pulled up every single file she could on creatures in the pagan lexicon. In just ten minutes she had gone through three sheets of paper scribbling. Deciding that was wasteful she went to her closet and pulled out a presentation board. As infantile as Venn diagrams may be, she made three on each side and tacked it into the wall. She was halfway through scribbling a possibility into the second diagram when Dean emerged from the bathroom.

He regarded her with amusement and grinned. His hair was standing up on all ends, probably because he had just towel dried it. His jeans were heavy with humidity but he wore just a black t-shirt without the flannel she'd become accustomed to.

"Is this not how hunters do things?" She asked feeling a little sheepish.

"Close but no cigar." He answered, still smiling. "It's usually newspaper clippings and red yarn, kind of like old school cops. But this…this is a grade school twist. I can work with this." He conceded.

She was proud the seasoned pro had accepted her method and turned to continue her work. Dean however, went to the second-hand coffee machine.

She had listed things like: Revenant, Native-American dream spirit, Zombie, Shapeshifter, and Fylgja. She arranged the diagram groupings by mythologies and abilities (according to legend) and stood back. Dean holding two mugs of coffee, walked up behind her. He handed her the mug and admired her handy work as well.

"What the hell is a F-yuhl-gee-ah?" he stuttured.

"It's part of Norse tradition. They're like spirits who are meant to guide you to your fate, they appear in dreams."

"Well, there's a first time for everything." He retorted, slurping his steaming coffee.

Kat's brain was starting to swim from all the contradictions in the lore she knew and the parameters she had to work within.

"I'm frustrated. I just can't decide whether or not Rowena would stick to purely Celtic tradition. Would she extend to Norse because that, and Celtic are so closely tied? Or, since we're in America would she screw heritage and try out new terrible playthings? Could she even do that? Pick up something entirely new but practice her form of witchcraft?" She nearly shouted in exasperation.

Dean was a little awed by how quickly her mind asked all the right questions. "I think Rowena would stick to Celtic. She's old-fashioned, very Scottish. She's devoted, gotta give her that. I don't pretend to know everything about witchcraft but I don't think you can trade magic and its matching culture like Pokémon cards." He hoped his response was helpful. He looked to her for validation.

"Ok so, for the sake of a working theory, we can cross at least five 'possibles' off the list." She ferociously struck out: zombie, and dream spirit, along with a few others listed on the opposite side.

"You told me you saw crows. What things do you know of that use birds as omens?" Dean tried desperately to come up with a viable suggestion. Kat didn't move for a moment, her eyes looked without seeing ahead of her as she bit the side of her cheek. Suddenly her eyes opened wide and she darted to the computer. Her fingers flew across the keys so fast the computer beeped in protest. Finally she had found what she was searching for.

"Sluagh." She breathed.

"A what now?" Dean questioned, leaning in to properly hear Kat.

"It's Irish. The soul of a dead sinner, it takes the form of a loved one in order to steal the soul of the living. There's one part that doesn't make sense. It's probably why I forgot about it…Sluagh's steal the soul of a dying person…..I'm not dying." Kat had turned a pale shade of gray as she tossed around the idea of her own mortality.

Dean just stared at her. He couldn't think fast enough to form a comforting response. She had just confirmed what he and Sam both had known for a while. Once people allied with them, a person was marked for death. Shoving his own self-doubt aside he said, "The Kelpie wasn't an actual horse. Maybe the legend has been messed with. Lost in translation you know? It say how to kill it?"

"Vague talk about keeping your "west-facing window closed". If we're going with your theory maybe what we need to do is open the window. The window in my room faces east though…" she trailed off, tapping her finger on the table in contemplation.

"The sun rises in the east. What if you kill it with the light?" Dean suggested.

"You are literally a life-saver Dean Winchester." She awed, playfully smacking her head to highlight her own ineptitude.

"Well, I do it professionally." He flirted with his usual charm. Kat knew if she looked longer into his eyes she'd be lost there so she changed the subject.

"So how do I kill it? I've just gotta open the window?" She asked skeptically.

"It's your best shot. But there's also no way you're going in alone." Dean added with a sly smile. He pulled out his phone and dialed Sam's number. When he answered, Dean asked "Is Cas up for a flight?

* * *

"What do you mean an angel is delivering us some magic dream root!?" Kat cried. She had taken in a lot since she had started this crusade but actual angels? She couldn't figure out why she was willing to accept all of the pagan creatures that had come her way but once one of them was divine she couldn't fathom it. Her mind felt like a sinking ship with water sloshing around inside threatening to breach the bulkheads and take the whole thing down.

"So not only are angels real, but you're telling me they are also mules for recreational drugs. What? Are we going to roll this herb up and smoke it? Maybe sync the Wizard of Oz to the Dark Side of the Moon?" She derided. She was pacing as Dean sat calm at the table. His smug calmness infuriated her. Kat was jealous of him in the sense that he never had to endure this discovery period. He'd always known about the supernatural so everything new he came across was just added to the journal pages. It was maybe his resilience that she envied more than the privilege of knowing what was out there.

"You did college right." He remarked, reminding her of the comment she'd made before she allowed her thoughts to digress. It was at that moment Kat heard a deep rushing noise behind her. It sounded like a cross between a loose sail on a ship flapping in the wind, and the commanding force of a bird of prey's feathers battling with the wind.

She whipped around and saw exactly what she expected not to. The angel was young, attractive, and disheveled. She cocked her head to the side as if a sideways view would filter him to become the massive, halo bearing, winged creature that belonged on Mount Olympus she thought he'd be.

"I've been told excessive staring is rude". The raw quality of his voice startled her. She stayed where she was but quickly responded to his bluntness.

"Pointing out rudeness, is rude." She retorted, excited to see how the celestial being would respond.

"That…that was meant in jest." He said, somehow both monotone and full of hurt. His eyes tightened as he looked at her shrewdly. It was like he was truly trying to ascertain her essence as a human based on only one glance.

Kat decided to alleviate his internal battle and extended her hand to him stating, "So you're Cas."

He mimicked her motion and offered up his hand as well. "And you're Katherine."

Dean who had been watching the entire situation bemusedly clapped his hands, re-alerting the both of them to his presence. He stood up and asked, "Do you have our drugs?"

* * *

Once Kat was engaged in the kitchen boiling water to steep the root in, Castiel pulled Dean aside and said lowly, "I could stay and help, if you need."

"I think we've got this one…simple salt and burn. We've tangled with dream root before." Dean answered nonchalantly, sneaking a glance at Kat who was carefully distributing water into mugs.

Castiel noticed this and prodded, "She is special." It was both a statement and a question, neither of which Dean was in the mood to handle.

"She's a case. She's helping us out with the Rowena thing and we're keeping her alive. Don't complicate this Cas.

Accepting Dean's evasion for now Castiel stepped curtly forward and said, "Goodbye Katherine. I'm sure I will see you again."

He didn't wait for Kat to respond before vanishing before her eyes. "He do that a lot?" she asked.

"Yes." Dean looked at the mugs and added, "You ready for this?" as he pulled out the bag and went to the small counter placing a heap in each mug. "It tastes like ass. I need some DNA from you, so that it can tell what dream I'm supposed to in."

Kat took a deep breath and looked into his eyes yet again feeling lost. She pulled out a strand of her wild hair, dropped it in his mug and said, "Let's get started."


	6. Chapter 6

Dean and Kat sat at the edge of her bed. Kat stared at her mug, scared out of her mind honestly. Looking at the mug, was like looking down the barrel of a gun. She literally held her fate in her hands and couldn't seem to take the plunge.

Dean touched her knee consolingly and said "It'll be ok." The certainness in his voice made her wish she could believe him. But, it did give her the push she needed. They looked at each other, Dean nodded, and they each took a sip.

Kat felt like gravity had switched positions and was pulling her forward rather than down. The lights in her room faded as it became a gray backdrop, scattered with shadows. She turned to Dean to ask if she was dreaming, but he had vanished. With the realization that he was gone, all of the warmth disappeared from the room.

"Dean?" Kat's hysteria peeked through her voice. She stood attempting to get through the door to the hall, hoping that it would break the cycle and wake her up. Before she could get there however, the shadows began to move. They curled and twisted into a dark silhouette and from it, stepped the full vision of her uncle.

"Hey, Kit-Kat." He said, letting his face break into the smile that Kat had loved best. It highlighted the wrinkles around his eyes making his appear older, but his youthful spirit radiated off him like a flare.

"Don't call me that." She whimpered. It had been his nickname for her since she was young, but this creature was just using his body, his memories. She wouldn't have them tainted for her forever.

She backed up until the back of her knees met the soft bed. She never moved her eyes from the sluagh, too terrified to test what would happen if she did.

"Please don't be like that. It's me, Mikey." He pleaded, taking a step forward. Kat recoiled as much as she could, turning her body towards the window.

"No you're not." She told him and herself at the same time.

"Why, because that drifter told you so?" he said a little more forcefully. She looked back at him, feeling deceived by the face she knew, and guilty over the realization that she was choosing a stranger over even just the memory of the man who'd raised her. He must have sensed the debate happening inside her head because the sluagh capitalized on it, he continued, "Remember when your mom died, and I came and picked you up from the police station? Do you remember what you said to me?"

Kat did remember. But she wouldn't give the monster the satisfaction of divulging that particular memory.

"You said, 'I'll never leave like Mommy did. I don't like it when you look sad'." Hearing the words repeated nearly broke Kat's heart in two. When he had died, he'd gone peacefully. There was time for goodbyes and to say whatever needed saying. She couldn't stand listening to those words because the pain of sadness on her uncle's face had been worse than watching him die.

Feeling herself losing the fight for her life, she began to panic but she was so lost in his presence alone that she couldn't think straight.

"I am sad Kat. I'm sad because even though I moved on, I left you behind." He stepped forward, again Kat was unprepared. She was forced to dodge his touch to the left, further away from the window.

"No. Stop it. My uncle was an Irish firefighter from Brooklyn. He never talked like this. He'd just as soon as shove his fist in his mouth than tell me he liked the macaroni art I tacked onto the fridge." She spat.

Impatience flickered across the sluagh's face. "Don't you wish you could talk to him about that now? The inability to show you love?" it roared. The sudden shift was jarring to Kat and she stood with her mouth slightly open staring at the now possessed grin splitting the sluagh's cheeks widely.

"Frankly, I don't." she assured the creature who was no longer tantalizingly reminiscent of her uncle but had become itself.

"That's a pity really. Because I happen to know, he's dying to talk to you." It cooed.

"We said all we need to say before he died. I know you're lying." Kat countered. She was feeling increasingly panicked. Her back was literally against the wall and the only weapon she held was her word. She silently begged for Dean to appear, save the day, as he'd done once before. She knew wishing for a savior was fruitless however and poured all of her focus on the sluagh. Kat ferociously went through scenarios in her mind of how to get to the window, but each led to her failure to get there in time. The lack of faith she had in herself was beginning to grate at her resolve.

"You've left nothing from his mortal life unsaid. But why can't he have found more things to say in his immortal one?" the creature challenged. Kat had run out of counter attacks and stared as it advanced towards her.

* * *

Dean had blinked and suddenly he was in Kat's kitchen. The color had been dragged from the room, making it black and white. The stark contrast of light and shadow reminded Dean of the way in which he and Sam lived their lives. Good and Evil. Plain and simple. The first time he had entered a dream with African dream root, the world was ultra-saturated with color. It glowed; but this…this was desolate.

"Kat?" he called tentatively. Receiving no reply, he took a step forward to the bedroom. As soon as he looked up from the floor where his foot fell his eyes opened wide at what had appeared before him.

"I went to hell for you Dean, This is not the life I thought you'd be living. I'm disappointed, son." It was his first time hearing his father's voice in ten years, and each word that fell was like a lash meeting the flesh of his back.

"I looked out for Sammy. That's what you asked of me and that's what I did." Said Dean resolutely. As soon as Dean finished the apparition disappeared. He'd mused on things he'd say to his dad if he was ever given the chance to see him again. If there was one thing Dean was proud of, it was Sam. He would defend that position to his dying breath, even if it cost one more conversation with John. Eager to escape the memory he pushed forward but as soon as his foot fell there was another terror waiting.

"What I couldn't understand, was why you let my mom stay Dean." Jo whispered accusingly. Her eyes squinted when she looked at him full of hurt. Dean understood the pattern now, his guilt spilling out from the hidden recesses of his mind taking up the bodies of the people he'd gotten killed. He was not in control and all of the things he tried to repress were flowing out to betray the careful wall he'd spent years building.

"There was no way she'd be able to live with you gone. If she had survived, I wouldn't call it living." Dean reasoned, seeing the way past the pawns of his subconscious was to beat them at their own game. Jo was gone; and as soon as he blinked she was replaced by another.

"Kevin." Dean greeted. "Gotta tell you, you're not who I expected next."

"Dean, Dean, Dean. Always with the sarcasm. I wonder if Gadreel appreciated your sense of humor." He scathed. Dean hated seeing Kevin again as this jaded, miserable creature. He'd been visited by the ones he'd lost before but never one after the other, berating him.

"You know, seeing the ghosts of Christmas past has been fun and all but, I've got a life to save." Dean attempted to step forward hoping it would signal another apparition to take up Kevin's mantle but he just ended up slipping through the translucent form and Kevin reappeared a step ahead.

"You can't ignore me like you did when I was alive Dean." Kevin's voice was fiercer, more driven and angry. His challenge forced Dean to straighten up to his full height. He stared into Kevin's eyes and tightened his own. He curled up his lips to restrain the anger that was threatening to explode from his chest like a bomb.

"And you can't act like you deserve reparations for what happened. Man up and roll with the punches; life isn't fair." Dean shouted. He thought he saw the image of Kevin smile wickedly before he vanished.

Dread rolled over Dean like a fever. He felt cold and hot at the same time his skin prickled with sweat. He shoved his trepidation aside and willed himself to take one more step.

"Did it work? Is the Mark gone?" a small voice squeaked. Charlie's appearance was less like her human self than the others. Her hair was less lustrous and her eyes didn't hold her usual excited zeal. He knew this wasn't really Charlie's soul returned for the time being. It was a monster using her face and he hated it. But, he couldn't bring himself to voice that because he was looking at the Charlie that had saved his life with her own.

"Yeah kiddo, it did." Dean smiled warmly at her and the illusion smiled back. Dean knew he wouldn't have it in him to be cruel to her, to muscle his way past, take all of the self-hate and repression and thrust it outward. But luckily Charlie—even a false mirage of her—didn't seem to be able to be callous.

"I'm sorry." Dean said, purging some of the guilt thumping around in his ribcage like a trapped bird.

"It's ok." She said simply and she beamed as she faded away into the shadows which seemed to be encroaching further into the space. Dean suddenly remembered Kat, and started off at a run, he only made it three steps—tantalizingly close to the bedroom door—before he stopped himself cold staring at the broken, bleeding figure in front of him.

Sam knelt on the floor, drenching the carpet with crimson. His head drooped on its perch like a newborn with no muscle to hold it up. His hands rested palm up on his knees reaching for help that obviously hadn't come. The bone of his shoulder protruded from his jacket and he was slouched, guarding himself from the pain. Dean stumbled back a step and whispered, "No."

Sam looked up with pleading eyes, a large gash split layers of skin from his forehead to his top lip. It was pitiful. Finding his voice Dean said, more forcefully, "This isn't real. You're not dead."

"Not yet Dean. But I will be." He rasped from the floor. He coughed and spit out a large gob of blood, letting it drip onto his shirt, too far past caring.

"Why? I wouldn't have let this happen." Dean knew he was counseling himself, to wade through the grief he felt at seeing his brother like this.

"She wants to know Dean. She wants to know who you'll choose: your brother or your family." He choked out, his lip quivering as his eyes became deader.

"What? What are you talking about? You are my family." Dean growled, kneeling down to him and grabbing his shoulders, trying to shake life back into him.

"Keep everyone you love close Dean. Rowena has something very big in store for you." He wheezed.

This time the apparition vanished before Dean could reason with it. His hands became empty and he struggled back to his feet, feeling all the weight of the message the sluagh had passed on to him.

This time no ghost barred his way. He barreled into the bedroom, he saw Kat terrified backed up against the wall on the opposite side of the room. The creature had its arm against her neck, cutting off her air supply. Before the sluagh had the time to release her Dean had made it to the window. He shoved it open, letting the purest white flood the room. He turned, to see the creature right behind him. It reached towards him fighting its demise but the white had sucked the room clean of shadow. It jerked against the tug and pull of the wind attempting to drag it out of the open window. It wailed, a sickening echo of true pain as Kat's uncle dissolved away revealing a demonic being with glowing silver eyes and shadow for skin.

It started melting from the outside in. it moved inwards until only its face was left. Its mouth curled into a distorted oval, revealing a black pit for a mouth and grey rotted teeth. With one last gust the sluagh was gone, the window slammed shut and all the light disappeared leaving the pair of them in darkness.

Kat gasped as she was thrust back into consciousness. She heard Dean do the same next to her. They both had laid backwards when the dream root had taken effect. Dean sighed emphatically and all Kat could do was huff out an emotionless laugh. She stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what had happened inside her head.

"Well my dreams actually aren't as empty as my conscious seems to be." She quoted sarcastically. She felt Dean reach for her then, grabbing her arm and pulling himself closer to her. She turned her head and met his lips. She saw him mentally compartmentalizing. His eyes held lust but behind them was pain, confusion and sadness. Kat didn't mind though, she was doing the same thing. And they both, turned to each other for solace.

* * *

Kat lay on Dean's chest hearing his heart slow. After the whole ordeal, she was fighting to stay awake, scared to venture once again into the dream world. Dean kissed the top of her head lightly and said quietly, "I should leave tomorrow. Get back to Sam, tell him everything that happened."

Kat nodded minutely. "I think I need some space. From all this. I'll send you guys what I find." She responded. She knew he wasn't the one to be hurt by her need for elbowroom.

Dean changed the subject, as to not linger on anything that could become emotion. "You know I can't get that song out of my head. Annoying, at least it's a good song or I'd really be mad."

"Sometimes it's better to have music in your head, than anything else. I'm sure you've got stuff you'd like to hide from up there Winchester." Kat slurred slowly.

Dean looked down at her as clearly as he could without moving. He smirked at her sleeping form, lips slightly parted and eyelashes that twitched as she fell further into sleep.

* * *

Rowena paced around the crystals she had used to spy upon the eldest Winchester and the girl named Katherine. The girl had managed to fight off the pull of oblivion by the only person she had cared about. He was all she had left to tempt Kat with. Well, except Dean and possibly Sam. Rowena knew that she was no longer a victim to them. Sam and Dean always seemed form a sickening loyalty and closeness with those they allowed into their lives. Now, they had her, which meant Rowena was further away from claiming her, and keeping her from creating the weapon that could unravel her plan.

"What should we do now?" Said a sultry voice from across the large desk. Rowena's head snapped up and she smiled diabolically at the woman to whom it belonged.

"I think it would be delicious if we took away her mind. It seems she values sanity more than anything. I wonder how she would fare without it." Purred Rowena.

The woman brushed her white hair aside and cackled, very much like a stereotypical witch. "You know, I'm starting to think you'd do my job better than I do." said the woman.

"Ooh Carman, you do tempt me. Goddess of Evil does have a nice ring to it." Joked Rowena.

Carman stood, at her full height she towered above Rowena, hair cascading down her back with piercing blue eyes. "You have the book of the damned, a powerful hex bag should do the trick. Send me into her head, she won't survive." Carman promised.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam and Dean sat in the great room of the bunker. Dean had gotten back from St. Louis two hours earlier and found Sam buried in paper work. Books lay strewn across the large table seeming to play chess with the empty mugs of coffee littered between them.

Dean had put away his things and joined him immediately, watching rather than helping, contentedly sucking down a beer.

"You seem proud of yourself." Sam muttered glancing at his brother over the screen of his laptop.

"Why shouldn't I be? I had a very successful weekend." Dean said smugly, taking a long sip of his beer and replacing it triumphantly on the table.

Sam knew Dean's complacency had more to do with Kat than saving her life; but he let it go, not wanting to hear any more about his brother's exploits than he had to.

"While you were off vacationing, I mapped out a probable pattern that Rowena is taking. She's moving across densely populated areas. But only cities that have a large Scots-Irish community. Only, I've been checking records and people aren't dying. The missing person's count is slightly higher but I don't think she's killing them Dean." He said as he pushed his shaggy hair back with his hand that he then placed on the table, at a loss for what to type next.

Dean nodded his head to the side, thinking. "Well maybe she's keeping them in reserve. People may not be actually missing but they probably aren't themselves. We've seen that before."

Sam was always astounded that his brother knew exactly what to say to him to get his brain working on another theory. It's not that Dean always had the answers he couldn't see, it's just that he managed to strike up inspiration. Sam sat up with fervor, shaking his finger at Dean before he started to draft an email.

A questioning look passed over Dean's face for a moment, eyeing Sam with his eyebrows scrunched together. "What are you doing?" he grumbled, deterred by Sam's studiousness.

"Sending Kat an email. She could check the lore and see if any of the unusual events correlate to Irish legend. You said the thing after her was a sluagh right?" He said glancing at Dean once more, fingers still flying across the keyboard.

Dean looked momentarily angered and then slightly disappointed. The flicker of emotion didn't go unnoticed by Sam but before he could ask about it, Dean muttered passively "She said she needed some space from all this."

"Ok. So I'll send this and she'll get her info to us when she can." He answered matter-of-factly. He was unconvinced by Dean's distant nod. Dean got up then to grab his computer and help Sam. In reality it was partially to forget about what everyone around him seemed to be assuming about himself and Kat. "Why do I feel like you're not cool with that?" Sam interrupted the silence to ask.

"Dude, I'm fine." Dean deflected, taking another swig of his beer to avoid further questions. Sam smirked and twitched his head to the side knowing there was something eating at his brother.

After a moment of silence the pair heard the familiar whoosh of Cas landing in the room.

"I have news." He said bluntly.

"About what?" Sam questioned without even looking up. Dean didn't react to his presence either, he just continued aimlessly clicking around on the computer he only half knew how to use.

"The girl Katherine." He took a step forward and sat at the table with the brothers. "She's a lot more important than Dean's attachment to her." He finished.

Sam burst out a short chuckle and stared inquisitively at Dean, who rolled his eyes and shut his computer forcefully. "So you keep saying…" he interjected hotly. Castiel didn't pay him any attention and continued speaking.

"It seems her bloodline is sacred to pagans originating in pre-Christian Ireland and Scotland. Before the emergence of Christianity as the prominent belief system, polytheistic worshippers had their world threatened by a druid's son named Balor. Kat's lineage traces back to the man that slayed the beast that laid siege to those lands. I'm sure that means she is of some importance to Rowena." He finished his monologue and looked at the boys expectantly.

"Well, I guess what we do is keep tabs on her and have her look into those legends right?" Sam suggested.

"Yeah…" Dean spoke for the first time since his ridicule, sighing heavily and running his open palm across the top of his head. "So that means it wasn't coincidence that we met her, and Rowena definitely already had Kat on her radar. I'm getting real sick of this destiny crap."

"That just means Rowena knows we're on to her." Sam mused, staring off into nothing.

"I'll keep an eye on the girl." Cas announced as he went to stand and disappear. Dean held out a hand, turning his torso around awkwardly to look at Cas.

"Just don't get in her way, she doesn't want to get deeper into this than she already is." He cautioned.

Cas nodded and knew that Dean was speaking partly about his own presence in her life, hidden beneath the supernatural world.

* * *

Kat had cancelled her classes for the day, feeling the repercussions of the previous day's trauma. It was harder to shake than just being the victim of kidnapping because it took place inside her own head. Her mind, her sanity had been claimed by another living thing and it wrought havoc on her emotional state. She didn't like feeling disadvantaged and weak, and that's exactly how she felt.

She swung open the door to the bar where she worked, looking forward to mindlessly serving drinks. The monotonous routine was natural and real to Kat. It calmed her to the point where she felt painfully normal. There was something poetic about serving alcohol to people who wished to alter their state of consciousness when all Kat wanted was clarity. Kat shook her head bemusedly, shaking away her thoughts.

The night progressed quickly and Kat enjoyed the constant drum of voices shouting to be heard over the music, occasionally one breaking through before it was eaten up again. Finally the bar closed and she was startled out of her musings by the girl who worked the bar with her, bumping abruptly into her hip.

"Sorry." She murmured, never making eye contact with Kat as she reach for a tray of empty glasses to take to the washer.

Kat wanted to respond that it was ok, an accident. But she couldn't quite form the words. Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard a voice saying, _"I should go home."_ It was strange because she couldn't recognize it as her own, but she was suddenly compelled to go. Her body was filled with a force that was not solicited by her brain. She felt her muscles and tendons interact with each other and walk her out the front door without a backwards glance.

She heard vague shouting after her but she didn't care. The world felt so dangerous, more so than in the moments she'd met monsters. Everything was filled with orchestral crescendo, signifying impending doom. It was then she had realized she was running and it was only the blood pounding in her ears making that noise.

* * *

Sam and Dean had not left their posts opposite each other, continuing to compile research when Cas whooshed into the room.

"Your friend Kat does not seem herself." He stated plainly. The brothers looked up at him, cocking eye brows expectantly.

"Care to elaborate?" Dean prodded bluntly.

Cas stepped forward, excited by their attention and said, "She left work unexpectedly."

"That's it?" snapped Dean, shaking his head.

"Well, yes. She seems like a hard worker…I thought…" He stammered reaching his arms out for understanding.

"Dude, she's probably just stressed. This whole thing has to be taking a toll on her." Sam counseled, sensing Cas' dejection.

"We also don't know her." Dean asserted. "She could do that regularly…it's a dive I'm sure they aren't strict about workplace etiquette, Cas."

Cas face dropped slightly and he stepped away from the agitated Dean and lethargic Sam.

"Just keep watching Cas, We'll give her a call." Sam placated. Cas nodded and disappeared.

Dean had already whipped out his phone. He was more alarmed at the fact that he really didn't know if this was normal for Kat to do, than if she was actually in danger or not. He was disappointed in himself that he had left and assumed that the sluagh would be the last of their worries. But also felt ridiculous getting himself worked up over someone whose characteristics he barely knew, off of Cas' intel. And also, slightly worried there actually was something wrong.

The phone rang twice, and was swiftly answered. He sighed a breath of relief as he heard Kat speak.

"Hey." She simply said.

"Hey" he mimicked. "Just checkin' in…I know you said you needed some space but I just wanted to call to make sure you're good." He hoped she understood his connotation, not mistaking what he hoped was casual for neediness.

"Oh. Good, I guess. Just got off work. I've got classes again tomorrow so I was gonna try to sleep early." Said Kat, evasively.

Recognizing her polite way of departure, he agreed "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Ok…talk soon?" He wasn't sure why he'd phrased it as a question because he'd usually just state it and hang up the phone. But with Kat, he wanted her to know that her opinion mattered. He wished she would just obey, but something told him no matter what either he or Sam said, she'd have a different opinion.

"Yeah. Soon." was all she said before the other line went dead. He shut his phone, a little disappointed by her coldness.

"All good?" said Sam, expectantly. Dean had forgotten he was sitting there waiting for word on Kat. Looking at the face of his little brother he was reminded of how often he disregarded Sam's personal feelings and kept him in the dark for whatever reason.

"Seems to be." He informed, pushing the digression of his thoughts aside. "I mean, Cas is there right?"

Sensing his brother's indecision Sam supplied "He'll let us know." Sam gave Dean a look of steeled determination and they went back to work.

* * *

It had been two days since they had heard from Cas. Dean was aimlessly puttering around in the kitchen. Grabbing at mugs and cups left there without a second thought, not really sure what it was he was doing. He took a sip of his coffee gingerly trying to avoid inevitably burning his tongue. Just as he placed a dish in the sink, he felt a presence appear directly beside him. The noise that accompanied Cas' arrival was overshadowed by his labored breathing. Dean jumped and the plate clattered around as it was shaken from his hand by the force of his surprise.

"Dammit Cas!" he exclaimed but before he could finish the angel spoke forcefully.

"Something is definitely not right Dean. She hasn't left her house in three days and stopped ordering food yesterday." His matter-of-factness and certainty pulled Dean around to face him. He ran his hand through his hair exasperatedly and immediately started out towards the hallway.

"Sam!" he called, his voice bouncing off the walls of the bunker like a pinball machine, lighting up at each bounce.

After about ten minutes Sam and Dean had packed a bag and met back up in the great room. It was a methodic, swift preparation because jumping to action was their life.

"Its seven hours from the bunker to St Louis. We'll start driving and be there by early evening. Cas, you go and start looking for a reason she'd be acting like this. We warded her place to the teeth so she had to have brought something in with her." Dean barked as he strode into the room carrying a small duffle bag and his sawed off shot gun.

"So…perhaps a hex bag?" Cas suggested

"That's the best guess." Dean afforded. The three shared a look and Cas disappeared leaving the brothers to head for the Impala.

* * *

Kat's world was in a fog. She sat at her table, staring at the bare wall across from it. The stench of the room wafted around her but she was unbothered by it. Nothing mattered. Not the world she had been thrown into, or the state of disarray in the part of her life laying at her feet.

She recognized a sudden movement in the space around her as if someone was hovering. She couldn't tell if it was standing feet or inches away, she couldn't even register if she was being touched. Her head lolled back and forth on its neck weakly.

The voice that had controlled her for days came again. "Kill him." It said.

* * *

Sam and Dean pulled up in front of Kat's apartment seven hours later, exhausted. They got to her door just as Cas swung it open. There was a scissor sticking out of his chest and a bright spot of blood surrounding it.

"What the hell happened?" questioned Sam as Dean pushed past them both into the house.

Castiel and Sam followed as Cas spoke, "She tried to attack me. I had to restrain her. I did manage to find the hex bag though."

Dean didn't notice Cas as he brandished the occult object, all he saw was Kat's limp form tied to one of her mismatched chairs. Her hair was matted and there were bright purple rings under her eyes. They were open but held no life or cognition.

"Kat" Dean said cautiously.

She immediately snapped to attention and looked at him intently. "Winchester." She stated.

"Oh well now you've got me at a disadvantage. You know my name but I don't know yours." Dean responded quickly. Pushing his emotion down and answering with defensive wit.

She smiled sweetly and said "Who I am is not important." Dean moved fast to where Cas was standing, grabbed the hex bag and held up clearly for Kat to see. He took out his lighter and set the small bag on fire.

"Well, then you won't mind if I cut this conversation short...do you?" he quipped

Sam stepped forward and extended his arm and said, "Dean…don't!" But it was too late. As flame engulfed the bag Kat's body sat up pin straight as if it were touched by a live wire. She screamed, strong, seemingly from the depths of her soul, then slumped back down, head hanging, wild tendrils of hair covering her face.

"Dean, if that was a witch somehow possessing Kat, we could've used it for information." Sam grumbled bitterly.

"She's not something that we're going to use as a pawn Sam." Dean commanded and Sam knew he was right. They both stepped forward to untie her as Cas watched, perplexed.

"Rowena has started using magic to project another witch's conscious into a human, we need to know everything about it. Maybe your tattoo also protects against this type of possession." He mused. "Witchcraft, after all, was the basis for any demonic beliefs in the Christian tradition."

Dean nodded, to show Cas he was listening but knelt down next to Kat's chair lifting her head gently, her chin cupped in the palm of his hand.

She snapped up suddenly and ran towards the bathroom. The three men followed suit, flocking around her like gigantic hens. She reached the toilet and violently threw up black bile. The gooey substance forced its way out of her body, purging her from the dark magic. Her small frame was wracked with coughs and Dean stepped forward to gather up her brown hair but she pushed his arm away feebly. She finished heaving for long enough to grab it herself.

"I'm not the girl who got drunk for the first time off too many wine coolers Dean. I got this." She spat. Dean recoiled from her harsh tone but knew anger was her defense just as humor was his. He understood her then, better than he had in the last two weeks. He looked from Cas to Sam who seemed to take his meaning.

"Let's get those scissors out of you dude." Said Sam, "You look like you went ten rounds with Freddy Krueger." They left and Dean slid down the wall to sit on the floor across from Kat. Her breathing had slowed now and the heaves were lessening.

"I did hear something you know. The woman, in my head…her name is Carman. She's with Rowena and they want something desperately here in St. Louis." Her face was full of defeat and Dean pitied it, because he remembers wiping that look off of his face many times before

"Ok" he said. "We'll figure it out."


	8. Chapter 8

Kat was in the shower as Sam Dean and Cas huddled around the small table in the middle of the room. Cas had erased the garbage from the floor with a simple wave of his hand. He saw the despair on Kat's face as she had been sick and felt compelled to alleviate some of the stress.

"What exactly was she saying Cas?" asked Sam who was leaning forward in his seat attentively focused on him.

"She was conversing with herself, or rather the witch possessing her was conversing with someone. She said something about a cauldron. An old one, carved with some sort of spell work, they need it for a mixture of some kind. The mixture seems to be necessary for 'an eye to open'…whatever that means."

Sam nodded his head and started punching away on his keyboard.

"What are you looking for?" asked Castiel moving his seat closer so he too, could look at the screen.

"Just looking for lore on cauldrons. Gotta start somewhere." Sam mumbled.

The shower stopped and Dean straightened in his seat, shooting a furtive glance back at the bathroom door. He was lost in thought and didn't participate in the conversation. There were theories bouncing around in his brain and he was anxious. Every bone in his body telling him that there was something big coming their way. It was the fact that the opposing side seemed to be carelessly giving up information that was setting his teeth on edge. He might not be the researcher, knowing every detail about lore; but he certainly was a strategist and this…was too easy.

"Here's something…"Sam started "So cauldrons were a pretty common object in early Irish history. But they were used by druids and that led me to this article on Balor. Didn't you mention him yesterday Cas?" Sam asked gaining fervor. Without waiting for a response he continued, "His father was a druid and used a cauldron like the one you described. It's what gave this guy Balor his power." Sam surmised.

"Oh yeah, and what was that?" Dean scoffed, "Mind control?"

"The evil eye. He had the evil eye." Kat corrected. She had appeared from the bathroom behind the boys followed by a cloud of steam, looking much more herself. She stood still timidly, in a tight pair of leggings and an oversized AC/DC band tee shirt. Her hair was air drying so that frizzy pieces sprung out from the bun perched precariously at the top of her head. Her large brown eyes looked much healthier but were still wide and retained a childlike innocence.

In the instant Dean noticed all of these things about her demeanor she had made her way to the table and stood next to him all the while speaking firmly. "He's a legend…part of the Mythological Cycle which precedes the Fenian Cycle of kings in Gaelic history. He's the leader of an army called the Fomorians. They were essentially humans but with super strength and what killed them was his third eye. His grandson Lugh shot a spear so hard through it, that it pushed the eye backwards and it opened on his army behind him essentially killing them all." She listed. The men around her stared for a moment until Cas interrupted the silence

"His grandson is actually something we should talk abo—" until Dean thrust out a hand to shut him up. Kat had been through enough for the moment and he felt like he needed to protect her for just a few more minutes.

Sam jumped in on the abrupt silence and asked, "Do you know anything about a cauldron?"

Kat picked up on the tense moment between Dean and the angel but chose to ignore it and handle one thing at a time. "Yes. The reason his father was mixing 'a potion'…" she made air quotes around those words "…and its fumes are what gave Balor the third eye as a child. The contents of it are never said in the stories because they were mostly recorded by monks and they toned down the paganism. But it is agreed upon by most scholars that whatever mixture was in there fits with the motif of natural elements having some sort of supernatural connotation." She finished, slightly out of breath.

"Something tells me you have a theory about what it was." Sam prodded.

"It's what my dissertation was on… until that witch made me delete it and write nonsense over it..." She shook her head utterly defeated and Dean wanted to reach out and touch her but he didn't. " _I_ think it was ash of the Rowan tree. It was sometimes called mountain ash. It didn't kill Balor, because he wasn't supernatural and precision is often very important in folklore, which in layman terms was my thesis. But…it did kill his army because they had 'super strength'. Which is weird by any standard" she held up her hands and shook them when she said super strength to emphasize how ridiculous she felt saying it.

This time Dean did move, holding out a seat for her and she sat quickly, as if she had just realized she was standing.

"I could feel the witch…Carman…like picking around in my brain. Kind of rifling around in information I didn't even knew I had, you know?" Kat said making her eyes smaller, scrutinizing the memory. Her mouth curled up in distaste.

"Maybe Rowena is using this guy's army for something. And you said the cauldron is what created this extra eye or whatever, that could be her fail safe?" Dean suggested. "Who says this army even wants to follow her? If she's dealing with a group of creatures with super juice who's to say they won't turn on her, and if they do she needs a way to kill them and save herself."

Kat saw the cogs turning in Dean's mind and jumped on the brainstorm that seemed to be growing.

"That's probably what is in St. Louis. She was talking about it in my head that they were looking for something here maybe that's it." She guessed

"Well that's all we have to go on, so let's try and find it."

* * *

After a day, Kat had been filled in on what had happened while she was empty to the world. The news that her family traced all the way back to pre-Christian Ireland was as intriguing as it was terrifying, because she was well acquainted with the tale of her far removed ancestor and she had believed it was simply legend. The roller coaster of discovering everything she had ever explored and worked towards, theorizing and searching for a scrap of truth amongst the squabbling of scholars. Castiel had been popping in and out all day, trying to use any means he had beyond their disposal to locate the cauldron. Each time he came back and told the group that he had nothing new; Kat became more and more frustrated.

After his latest departure she slammed her computer closed and nearly shouted, "I can't do this anymore!" She pushed herself up from the table and went to the bedroom smashing around in irritation looking for her belongings hidden from her in plain sight by her anger.

"Ok, Incredible Hulk…" said Dean appearing in the door of the room that they had frequently inhabited together, "Where do you think you're going?"

He stood with his arms crossed across his chest, surveying her like a parent surveys a child having a temper tantrum.

She stopped flailing shoes around and looked up at his stern green eyes and almost pouted. Kat threw her arms down and put all her weight on one leg, shortening herself another inch and throwing her head slightly back as she sighed out her anxieties.

"I have to get some air." She said by way of explanation.

He pursed his lips and dropped his arms as well. "Well, you can't go alone." He motioned to the mess strewn across the room which traced the path she'd taken. "Come on… grab your stuff." He ordered.

* * *

Twenty minutes later the impala had pulled up to the destination that Kat had directed Dean to. She leapt out of her seat drawn in by her apparent familiarity but Dean hung back, somewhat put off by its appearance. It was a small building sandwiched between two larger corporate looking ones. Its siding was falling off in bits and little racks and signs were placed haphazardly outside.

"Is this where you take all the guys?" he snapped, not entirely enjoying being dragged around.

"Yes. This is where I keep their bodies." She said in a false, happy, high pitch and shot back an annoyed glance as she stepped up to the door.

"Very funny." He replied dryly as he followed her.

The door creaked so loudly he thought it might shatter and a small bell jingled to signal its opening. Although the loudness of the creak rendered the bell useless, because there was no way whoever was working there hadn't heard the door open.

Kat's eyes widened knowingly and the softest smile spread across her face. Dean noticed how she seemed to lighten ten pounds as the grief and stress of the day left her, absorbed by the record lined walls.

The store was tiny but each wall was stacked to the top with vinyl. Kat skipped from stack to stack that formed a labyrinth of rows leading back to a small counter with old coffee machines puttering away like a locomotive.

Kat moved through the stacks her hands laden with colorful sleeves. Dean followed, somewhat relaxed from before because of the musty smell of the records. He watched as Kat placed her burden down on a small table next to a battered turn table. Two sets of headphones protruded from the archaic machine and Kat placed on a modern looking album.

She placed on her own headphones and went to hand the other pair to Dean but he shook his head.

"Why?" she inquired.

"Because I only listen to good music." He scoffed. She looked back at him, purely offended and he was caught off guard by the fierceness of her gaze.

"How do you know what good music is if you only listen to one kind? What's your basis of comparison?" she pressed.

Dean hadn't expected her to defend herself so strongly and had no response for her immediately. Her eyes glowed with passion and they dared him to answer. They stood close together pressed in by the music surrounding them. Dean took a half step forward as he asked, "Was that a threat?" he growled.

Kat raised one eyebrow and tilted her head with it as a devilish smile spread across her face. It encouraged Dean to slowly and deliberately return to the racks, making a show of how casually he was picking each record. Kat watched him for a moment and wondered how he managed to be rigid and relaxed at the same time. His body slouched and uninhibited but still so precise.

When he returned she had closed her eyes and she bit the corner of her lip, enjoying the music she was hearing. He dropped his records on top of hers so they made a light thud. She opened her eyes and in a split second Dean saw her take in all of her surroundings for a second time, almost like she was reliving seeing them for the first time.

They went on swapping records for 20 minutes. He'd reached deep into his memory to find obscure LP's like Maggie Bell's Queen of the Night. The only reason Dean even knew about her was because she had worked with Jimmy Page but he pretended like he'd found her on his own. Kat's taste ranged from Otis Redding to Imagine Dragons, who Dean passively agreed to being, "Not bad…".

Kat picked the needle up off Smoke and Mirrors and removed her headphones.

"I feel better now." She sighed smiling fully at Dean who was wrapping the cord around his own headphones.

"Yeah…well… I have that effect on people." Dean said quickly.

Kat punched him lightly in the arm and scoffed, grinning as she did. A silence that Dean couldn't decide was comfortable fell as she collected the records to return to their shelves. Dean smiled sideways at her as he saw that she kept Queen of the Night along with Otis Redding.

"Coffee?" he asked gesturing to the small setup about ten feet away.

"Always." Kat replied while starting to walk ahead of him. She placed the records in a return bin and ordered two black coffees from the man waiting there. "So…considering I've got a huge target on my back, I guess we have to come up with new ways for me to protect myself."

"You say that like you're in this alone." Dean argued. Regarding her with interest but also admiration.

"This is bigger than just me Dean. There's going to be a time when you or Sam can't be there and I should be prepared for that. I've never been the person who had to rely on someone." She admitted. She hid the frank honesty of her statement by taking a sip of coffee; all the while looking at him over the rim of her paper cup.

Dean shrugged by way of comfort and agreed, "Can't argue with that. But we will try…to be there, I mean." He added hastily.

She looked into his eyes which seemed radioactive in the light shining in from the window. The dust mites in the air hung around their heads like all the words that were left unsaid. The silence hung for a few seconds longer than was necessary.

"Cas had an idea about anti-possession though. How opposed are you to a tattoo?" He broke in, reaching one hand up and scratching the back of his head absentmindedly.

"What's one more?" Kat asked, knowing Dean had seen her other tattoos in their nights together.

Dean smiled, remembering running his hands over the pieces on her thigh and sternum. Feeling awkward on the course his mind was taking him he placed his hand at the small of her back and pushed her towards the register.

* * *

They found a tattoo parlor only a couple of miles away and Dean had shown the image of his anti-possession tattoo. Kat was positioned calmly on the artist's table, machine buzzing away as she looked at Dean with clear eyes.

"So this will…?" Kat left the sentence unfinished as she laughed internally at the appalled look on Dean's face as he looked at the tattoo artist who remained seemingly unphased as he continued to work on Kat's forearm. Dean looked back at Kat, willing her to say more on the true reason behind her spur of the moment tattoo. She smiled at him, enjoying his discomfort.

"Be Permanent." He evaded in a joking manner to keep the artist in the dark. She winced as the needle drew closer to the crook her elbow. She had chosen a navy blue ink, rather than straight black. Kat was not opposed to tattoos but always relished the chance to stand out from the crowd so she had chosen a different color to separate her from Sam and Dean and in some way, from their world, even if It only was noticeable to her.

Dean's phone rang and he stepped past the waist height wall that separated the lobby from the shop. It was Sam. Dean checked his phone to check how long they'd been gone. Only two hours…but Dean felt the anxiety rise in his chest whenever he received an unexpected call from his little brother.

"What's up?" said Dean without missing a beat

"Hey. So we might have a case." began Sam.

* * *

 **A/N: A little bit of a slow one but I felt like Dean and Kat needed to spend more quality time together. Thanks to anyone and everyone out there reading! Please if you like it, review. I'm flying somewhat blind here lol. To those of you that have gotten to me (you know** **who you are) THANKS!. In honor of tonight's mid -season finale, here's Chapter 8. -Kelly**


	9. Chapter 9

Kat and Dean stood opposite each other. Kat in the kitchen her hands rested out on the counter forming a V. Dean stood on the other side of the counter, weight resting on his left leg and his hand scrunching his eyebrows together in frustration. Sam watched them both, having slightly regretted bringing up the prospect of a job to his brother.

"So come with us. You shouldn't stay here alone, we'll have to protect you on the road." Dean said, tight lipped trying to keep his composure.

"No…we need someone to keep looking for the cauldron and we know it's here. It wouldn't make sense to leave." Kat countered, her voice raised much higher than Dean's and a flush rising in her cheeks.

"Considering the fact that we've had to haul ass here twice to save your bacon, I'm gonna say you need round the clock protection!" Dean exploded releasing his anger.

"Your chauvinism knows no bounds Winchester. Those were accidents! My life is in shambles, I'm not working anymore, and my dissertation is lost…" she trailed off as she vocalized her growing mountain of misfortunes and sighed. "I'm in this. For real now. It's all I have left."

Dean's face turned downwards for a split second because of the brokenness in her eyes. He couldn't find it in himself to fight her anymore.

Sam spoke up now, stepping forward to bridge the gap between the warring sides. "We'll go, but only if you promise to watch out for yourself. No heroics. Purely recon." He instructed.

"It's adorable that you both think you can tell me what to do…but yes…don't be a heroine. I got it."

"Enough with the ego crap. We're not telling you what to do. We've done this a few times before and know a thing or two about going underground." Dean snapped. Sam thrust out a hand to stop him from going any further.

"We don't want to control you. We just don't want to make any mistakes in keeping you safe this time." Sam said with finality.

"Ok." She accepted begrudgingly, not making eye contact with Dean. "So…I'm using your info on the census to find immigrants, or their descendants, that may have brought an artifact with them or had one passed down? Easy." She mumbled as she sunk into the chair she approached. Dean was infuriated, so much so that he couldn't even tell why. He huffed as he grabbed his jacket off the chair and stormed to the Impala.

"Watch out for princess too." She added in response to Dean's abrupt leaving. Sam smiled, but Kat didn't see because she focused on her energy into practically punching her keyboard. He knew that neither of them were actually mad at each other and it was amusing to him to have a bird's eye view of the relationship growing between his brother and Kat; whether or not Dean wanted to admit it was there or not.

Kat had compiled a list about three pages long of Scottish immigrants that came through Ellis Island and settled in or around St. Louis. She'd started driving around, scouting out the possibilities and so far, come up with nothing. She couldn't escape the creeping feeling that someone was watching her but she chalked it up to the fact that Sam had been calling at least three times a day to ensure she was constantly vigilant. She hadn't spoken to Dean since their pseudo-argument because they were both too stubborn to reach out first; but she knew he was there when Sam called. She heard him rustling around in the background, maybe a little purposefully and a part of her wished he'd say something. She'd felt ridiculous, but she'd become a little attached to him in the past few days, even though they argued.

As she was sitting outside a dump of a bar feeling like an utter weirdo watching the manager take out the trash, her phone rang shrilly.

"Jessica Jones, Private Intelligence." She intoned, enjoying her joke.

"Very funny…I'm glad you've had the chance to catch up on Netflix. We've got a real nut job on our hands here." Sam chided.

"Oh yeah?" Kat said vaguely, as she focused her attention on the manager that had reappeared lugging a huge pot, seemingly made of stone. She could feel the hair stand up on the back of her neck.

"Yeah, shifter, probably. Parading around as the mayor. Mark—the other hunter—has been here for weeks but couldn't move on him because the guy is pretending to be a public figure. Too many civilians would get involved if he went missing…" Sam's voice became distant as Kat zeroed in on the manager dumping what looked like some sort of broth out onto the pavement.

"Yeah…hey Sam…can I call you back?" Kat asked quickly, adjusting herself in her seat.

"Sure…?" Sam said questioningly. She didn't even wait for him to finish before hanging up the phone. She looked down to place it in the cup holder but as she shot her head back up the man was gone, as well as the pot he was holding. In the rear view mirror she thought she saw a flash of movement. But it was gone quicker than it was there.

Kat didn't know what possessed her but she gathered her things, let down her hair, and got out of the car. She marched across the street to the bar.

Its door swung open, easily despite its apparent heaviness. The joint was like any other, littered with the day drinking regulars, stained glass light fixtures, and wood paneling. She made her way to the bar and sat down at its corner spot. The man she had seen outside, eyed her warily and approached.

"What can I get you?" he asked brusquely.

"Food?" Kat asked. Her heart rate rose slightly because she was becoming more aware that she had no idea how to be smooth in a situation like this.

"Got burgers, fries, wings…just put some beef stew on." He listed.

Kat's face lit up and she tried to conceal the prospect at coming close to the basin she'd seen him empty.

"I'll take that." She said, simply.

It took about twenty minutes to come out. But the bartender lugged the thing right out to the bar. Kat startled a bit, scared of how unusual she thought this was. Upon seeing it closely however, she knew this had to be the artifact they were looking for. It had symbols, almost like hieroglyphs around the rim. It seemed thin, but made of a very fine granite looking stone. She was surprised by how ordinary it looked. Though it was embellished and looked vintage, it wasn't unlike something you would find in a present day kitchen. She felt slightly disappointed because she'd painted the picture of a steaming cauldron, like something that would be stereotyped on Halloween. The bartender never stopped looking at her as he ladeled the heavy soup into her bowl. She steadied her breathing and asked, "That looks old."

"It is. Belonged to my grandmother. She said it had been passed down through generations…but who knows if there's any truth to that." He said carefully.

Kat was hyper aware of the tone he was taking. She knew he couldn't have seen her outside but she had the strangest feeling like he knew why she was there. She heard another customer walk through the door and the bartender looked up and quickly moved into the back before going and asking if they wanted anything.

She finished the soup, so she didn't look any more conspicuous than she already did. She smiled warmly at the man before throwing down twenty dollars and leaving. She got into her car hastily but resigned herself to go back later. She heard Sam's voice echoing in her head repeating, " _No heroics_ ". But Kat knew that after closing she could be in and out with the relic quickly. It was one less thing for them to do to defeat Rowena, and one step closer to everyone being safe.

The beat up Ford Focus she drove huffed its way up to her apartment. Kat had taken Sam's advice and taken an unusual route home to avoid being followed. Still, she was wary; thinking she saw people in shadows. When she put the car in park and got out of her car she noticed an over turned flower pot.

" _Must've been an animal"_ she justified to herself. She stepped through her door and the vibration of her phone in her back jean pocket made her jump.

"Hey." she greeted Sam.

"Hey, what was up before?" he asked bluntly. She threw her keys down on her table and removed her jacket.

"Well, I'm pretty sure I found it. So I scouted out the place. It's a dive just outside the city limits." Kat neglected to tell him she'd be going after it, because she knew he'd tell her not to.

"Oh. Ok. That's good, so just wait for us to get back before you move on it. We're gonna take down the shifter soon. We'll high tail it back to Missouri as soon as we do. Takes about 11 hours from Savannah." He spoke with such an efficient authority, Kat pictured him as the Q to Dean's Bond. "Everything is ok otherwise?" he added.

"Yeah. I mean, other than the weird sense that you're being watched. But that kind of comes with the territory of being on the run doesn't it?" she said lightly.

"Well that depends. Have you seen anything?" Sam asked urgently. She heard Dean mumble something to Sam on the other line, and she imagined Sam holding out a hand to silence him.

"I haven't actually seen anyone following me. But, like, there was an overturned flower pot. It was probably a stray cat though, right?" she questioned.

"Possibly. But still, be extra careful." He said with finality.

"Will do." She agreed.

Around one o'clock in the morning she had grown impatient, waiting around for the bar to close at four. She got in her car and sped away. It wasn't until her third out-of-the-way turn that she noticed that there were a pair of headlights in the distance. She took another turn, and another.

There were always other headlights but, she couldn't tell if they belonged to the same car. Her paranoia set in and they seemed to mold with any other lights she encountered on the road. Street lamps, store fronts blinking like a warning flashed through her mind.

She turned, they followed a minute later. Kat's heart rate matched her speedometer as she went faster and faster; turning abruptly until eventually there were no more headlights. She pulled up in front of the bar expecting it to be fully lit but it was dark. Doubt crept up inside her chest as she parked and got out, feeling like she had to exert mental force to pick up her feet and walk forward.

The door she'd seen the bartender exit earlier was enveloped in darkness. In fact, the street was darker than Kat had envisioned it would be. It was thick, like tar, covering what seemed like miles. She used the flashlight on her phone as she carefully picked the lock. Once inside, she hurried to the door the man had disappeared into.

Kat threw around pots and pans in her panic, trying to get in and out as quickly as possible. Her hands jostled a pan just as a loud noise made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

She stopped and listened to the sound of smashing bottles and an angry, hungry growl. The kind of sound that comes from the back of the throat, reverberating the saliva enough so the sound is guttural and deep.

Kat panicked. Whatever had managed to follow her, wasn't human. She crept quietly on her hands and knees surveying the small kitchen. She'd gone through the drawers, so she looked upwards, at the racks of hanging cookware. Across the room she saw it, dangling precariously, almost framed in a sliver of moonlight. She ran towards it in her panic, accidently nudging one of the pots she'd left on the floor with her foot.

She heard the creature in the other room still, and then move abruptly towards the swinging kitchen door.

Kat felt like she was in a movie, grasping desperately for the object that would save her life. Just as she got the basin down and started towards the door she heard the entrance opposite her, slam against the wall. It created a smashing sound that rattled all of the pots hanging. Her hands reached out furiously for anything in front of her as if grabbing them would propel her forward. She didn't look back but she felt it getting closer as she shut and barred the entry into the street with a heavy garbage can.

Kat darted across the street to her car, weighed down by the artifact she held under her arm like a small child. There were resounding booms echoing, where the unseen creature was fighting to get free.

She got to her car, started it, and peeled away from the curb. The screech of her tires almost masked the sound of the metal door meeting the trash can and clanking open. She opened her phone and dialed Sam's number without looking back to see the monster following her.

"Hey" he greeted "We're almost there, I had to give Dean stitches before we left—"Kat felt a surge of concern for Dean before shouting at Sam.

"So, there's definitely something after me." She stated.

"Where are you?" Sam demanded, jumping into action over the phone.

"Driving…driving away from the bar. I went back for the cauldron and they showed up." She admitted. Her breath was coming in course rasps. She heard Dean shout something at Sam and there was a thud on the other line before his voice rang out, clear and decisive.

"Go to your house and stay there. We'll be there in three hours." Dean commanded wrathfully. "Do not leave. Ditch the freaks."

"How?!" Kat despaired.

"I don't care, put them in your rear view, and take sharp turns." He snapped.

"I've been doing that all day!" She cried as he heard the screech of tires behind her. She was on the brink of hyper ventilating as if her body was trying to drag in as much air as it could while it was able to. She smacked her hand against her dashboard in raw anger as she heard the sound of silence resonate on the other line. "I have an idea. Kat assured them. "Get here."

She hung up the phone and slammed her foot down on the gas pedal.

The air in the Impala hung thickly as Sam and Dean helplessly drove towards St. Louis. The phone had gone silent almost two and a half hours ago and their anxiety was mounting with each passing second. They were trapped within the earthly confines of the automobile, while somewhere out there, someone needed their help. Dean raced around other cars; until finally they saw the green signs for the city beckoning them off of the highway.

"We shouldn't have left her alone." Sam croaked, wringing his hands around a spare map.

"She's the one that ran off and didn't listen." Dean accused. His anger was getting the better of him. His concern was taking the back burner to the fury he used to fuel him.

They fell silent for another ten minutes and rounded the corner to Kat's street. The radiant phosphorescence that hit them burned through Dean's chest like a flare.

Sam's mouth hung open as he saw the flames rolling off themselves into the night sky. The smoke created an opaque backdrop that framed the space where Kat's small apartment had been. Underneath the flames…there was emptiness.


	10. Chapter 10

The fire was calming. Though it was representative of all that was chaos, it flowed like a river through the sky; pure and steady. As if the stream had abruptly hit a stone, the flame spread itself outward, then rushed back into itself to become one again. Dean stood there watching the flame lick the blackness uncaring as Sam pushed him out of the fireman that rushed forward with their hoses. _"Useless"_ , he thought. Because the only thing that mattered in the husk that would remain of the home was gone. Kat, was gone.

Dean felt the hope of anything that could have been, vacate his chest as he methodically left the sidewalk and started towards the Impala. Sam, rushing his steps to catch up to his brother, called out "Dean! Dude, stop!" but Dean kept going.

When they reached the car Sam grabbed Dean's jacket and thrust him around to face him. Dean had been avoiding looking into Sam's eyes because he knew the desperation that would reside there

It was the look his little brother didn't even know he intentionally gave when all hope was lost. It was like he hoped, that his big brother would know what to do, that he'd fix it. And Dean just didn't know how.

"We have to stay. We don't know what happened, maybe she got out." He pleaded. Dean wished he could be as optimistic as Sam managed to be. But he just shook his head, steeling himself against the lump in his throat, giving way to the fire raging in his chest.

"There's nothing left for us here! Rowena won this round and we're only leaving ourselves exposed and vulnerable by staying. We're going back to the bunker to regroup." He fumed turning his back on his brother. He opened the door to the driver's seat and sat.

"But Dean, how are we gonna figure out what happened if we turn tail and hide?" Sam implored.

"I am not hiding." Dean said stopping in the middle of pulling his leg into the cab. He left it grounded on the pavement, one hand laying across his lap, the other gripping the steering wheel. "Tonight is the third time in my life, I've stood watching, as someone burned alive. I need a minute." He concluded. Sam stopped. Frozen by the gravity of his brother's words.

Silence hung between them. It was dense like pound cake but devoid of all sweetness. Sam for a moment, allowed himself to shut down, giving into misery. He felt misery for the memories he relived every time he felt loss.

He remembered Jessica, he remembered losing Dean to hell. The list went on and for Sam the pain he felt was more about the 'what ifs' than the loss itself. He mourned the life that Kat would never have.

Sam was disturbed by the tickle of his phone in his front pocket. He jerkily retrieved it, pulling himself from his melancholy.

He swiped the screen open to the anonymous text. He turned his head to the side and read aloud, "Mint Motel. Richmond Heights. 338." His voice hung in the air as the brothers shared a daring, excited look.

"Dean, start the car" Sam ordered.

* * *

The pair of them pulled up in front of a shabby motel eleven miles outside the city. The ride went by quickly, their minds caught up in the possibility of what waited for them.

The room was in the third row of doors. Most lights were extinguished but a few, including the one labeled 338 shone out through the curtains. They swiftly parked, and reached for their guns. Dean led, with Sam covering their backs, guns held erect like rapiers, waiting to pierce flesh with the utmost precision. They stood on opposite sides of the door. Dean knelt down and simply picked the lock. The door creaked open and they burst inside clearing the room with the methodic jerk of their guns.

There was no one there. They looked around in confusion but saw only a few small boxes curiously placed in the corner of the room. Dean walked over to them and rifled through one containing clothing. Underneath them was the record Kat had purchased with him, stood up abruptly turn a little sideways to face Sam who had come to stand next to him, never dropping his weapon.

"These are Kat's." he stated. He turned back towards the door and kicked the small desk next to the boxes in anger and was suddenly pelted in the face with a lukewarm liquid.

He spluttered, raising his weapon but not firing because the substance temporarily blurred his vision. He heard Sam react similarly and used one hand to wipe the stinging fluid from his face.

As his vision became clear he searched for the source of the attack and landed on the small figure before them. Her eyes were wild with fear and doubt, every muscle tense grasping a small mug. She looked as though she was ready to smash it against Dean's head but, didn't. In a matter of seconds her eyes went from skeptical to satisfied and she sighed, "Thank God! I thought for sur—"

Kat was unable to finish her sentence however because Dean raced forward with overwhelming stoicism. His lips met hers, primal and without thought. She felt her knees weaken as he intertwined his hands in her frizzy hair, pulling her head back to match his. For a moment the whole of everything Kat knew was thrown into a state of flux. Unaware of anything but how petrified she was of the vehemence of the last two seconds, she pulled away. Staring into Dean's green eyes she exhaled, "What the hell was that for?"

Hands still in her hair, he breathed her air and said, "You matter to me. That's why."

Sam cleared his throat then and their reaction was as if he had burned them with a hot rod.

Kat moved backwards bashfully. There was something different in that kiss than the other times she and Dean had been together. It was possessed by true emotion. They weren't driven together out of necessity. But she wouldn't dare express that. She dropped the mug which she was still inexplicably holding and Dean rounded on her.

"What the hell is your problem?" he shouted.

" _My_ problem?!" she screeched back.

"You didn't feel like calling to let us in on the plan?" he accused.

"They were following me. I wasn't going to assume evil entities would forget to tap the phone!" she cried, exasperated.

"How _did_ you get away?" Sam intoned, stepping forward so he could be seen in Dean's periphery and included in the feud that was happening.

"Well I got the cauldron but I knew it wasn't safe to go home. I came here and hid it. But I also knew that they'd eventually find me anywhere I went so I did what any sane person would do. I led them to the house made them think I was inside, and then burned it to the ground for the insurance money." She declared, looking a little satisfied with herself.

Sam smiled at her gumption, but pressed, "How did you know it'd work?"

"I didn't. But I was reading those books you left me and I remembered a class I took on Celtic Myth and Legend, so I figured my only chance was to fight them with the things I 'knew' would kill them. So, I broke into the health food store and stole some betony…" she explained.

"Are you serious?" interrupted Dean, incredulous and accusatory.

"What, was there a better way to defeat a race of Celtic supernatural monsters? I shouldn't have done everything in my power to get to the only thing I knew had any possibility of working?" she snapped. He fell silent, honestly just thankful she was there to fight with. "So…I just sprinkled the floor with gas and the herbs and waited inside, once I heard them break through…I lit it up. Came straight here and texted you. But I got the room next door too just in case they survived and followed you."

"Is that what the face full of water was for?" Dean asked

"Well yeah, I saved some of the betony and mixed it with the water in the coffee machine. The ancient Celts believed it would dispel evil, so I hoped if I doused you with it, it would show and get-rid-of possession. I had no idea if it would work, but I hoped that if they had managed some hostile takeover it'd at least show me you guys were yourselves." She exhaled, finishing her saga.

"Well you did good." Congratulated Sam placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing, smiling broadly.

"To be honest with you, I got it all from watching late night thrillers on TV." She laughed. Purely overjoyed that she'd managed to save herself without any intervention.

"I need a drink." Blurted Dean.

"Me too." Said Kat quietly, meeting his eyes for the first time after the kiss.

"I'm buying." Finished Sam. "Your place was up in flames when we got there. I'm sure you at least slowed them down." He said, hinting at the safety of leaving the motel room, which at that moment both boys noticed had been excellently warded.

"Oh… that's right…I'm homeless." Kat groaned. She walked away and sat on the rickety bed. She rubbed her forehead, not allowing herself to complain because she'd escaped the night's adventure with her life. The feeling that her tumultuous life had only just begun washed over her and she attempted to put everything into perspective.

"No you're not." Said Dean resolutely.

* * *

Twenty minutes later Sam had returned with a fifth of Jameson per Kat's request. She poured herself a healthy glass; one she found in the dilapidated TV stand. Sam took the second glass, leaving Dean to use the plastic cups next to the sink.

The three of them sat for a while talking and, letting the TV hum in the background as they absorbed the alcohol. Kat laid flat on her back, taking the furthest bed. Her legs dangled off the end. She felt the suspense release from her chest. It became easier to breathe in Dean's presence. She wondered if it was because he'd saved her life so many times or that he was the expert in accepting the reality of the unbelievable. He had faith in the things he'd seen. Kat had seen the things he'd seen but still a part of her remained stubborn, blind to the truth; she took comfort in his determination. Lost in her thoughts after conversation had died down she closed her eyes, leaving her glass on the floor next to the bed.

A few minutes went by before she heard Sam adjust himself in his seat and clear his throat. "Dude you went full chick flick moment back there"

"Shut up." Dean commanded quickly. Kat heard him move too, probably fueled by the uncomfortable-ness of what was coming. She wondered if she should let them know she was awake but curiosity got the better of her and she stayed still.

"No, really. You actually like her don't you?" Sam interrogated. Kat could feel his knowing smile radiating off of him in waves hitting her.

"It was…'the heeeeeeat of the moment'." Dean mimicked the Asia song. Though she couldn't see him, Kat could feel Dean moving along with the disjointed rhythm he was warbling.

"Dude, you know how I feel about that song." Sam said, pseudo-seriously.

"Come on, what was that, 8 years ago?" Dean jibed. Kat felt him rustle the bed sheets next to her and five seconds later heard the sink turn on and the clack of glass against Formica.

"Still. It's not the best memory. I'm tired. We've got a seven hour drive tomorrow. I'm gonna go to sleep. Kat said she rented out the next room too so, there's plenty of beds." Sam sighed as the carpet caused friction against his shoes. He left and Kat felt Dean relax. He hadn't sat down, or as far as she could tell. But there was heaviness to her left where she assumed she was. Once the door shut, she rolled over onto her stomach and propped her hand up underneath her chin.

Dean pretended not to jump, by reaching for the glass he'd taken from Sam to rinse. He pushed himself off of the bathroom counter towards the whiskey sitting on the table. Kat picked up her glass and thrust it forward.

"No. no. Falling asleep means you've had too much" He denied

Kat held it aloft again, unwavering in her demand. "I wasn't asleep. You guys should be more careful." She joked. He walked over and filled her glass, then sat down on the bed facing the door. What happened eight years ago?" she asked, laying on her side cradling the glass against her chest. She saw Dean's side profile through her lashes. His face was resigned, hiding a novel's worth of secrets.

"An eternal Tuesday." He shrugged vaguely. He tipped his glass upwards knocking back a gulp of the acidic liquid. Kat felt like he had lived a thousand lifetimes, not just one.

"Ooh…that was the day you died wasn't it? Tell me, you promised." She practically squeaked.

"It's complicated." He stated looking at her now. Taking in the old mattress practically swallowing her whole, making her curves seem even more drastic without support under them.

"I ' _died_ ' today. Everything's complicated now." Kat countered adding sarcasm on the word died. Highlighting its irony. The idea that mortality in this new world was a myth put a bemused smile on her face. Dean didn't know how he felt about much, but he loved that smile. It felt like he'd known it his whole life.

"So you did." He acknowledged. He took a deep breath and said, "Sam swears I died over a hundred times that day but we were trapped in a loop. It reset each time I did, so I don't remember it." The mystery spot wasn't hard for Dean to talk about for that very reason. He expected Kat to push further though, and he prepared himself to relive the hellhounds.

"But you did actually die once. And that one you obviously remember." Kat stated, dancing around the question she was burning to know the answer to. She let him think on it for a few seconds, seeing the horror flicker over his face, then saw him actively retract it, like a handler controlling a lion. His pain was vicious, that much she could tell. "What did it feel like? To die." She asked bluntly.

"It was…." Maybe it was the alcohol talking, as Dean felt his lips open immediately to answer Kat; but he didn't do anything to stop it. "Well, getting ripped to shreds isn't over quick…but the feeling that I'd never be whole again was what hurt the worst. Maybe that's what actually got the job done." He said lowly, voicing the thought he'd mused on, for the first time.

"But you did become whole again?" Kat asked, her voice just as low as Dean's. Neither of them moved an inch. Dean had turned away and was staring at the curtained windows as Kat never stopped scrutinizing his face.

"Not completely" he admitted. Nothing had prepared him for that first time. He thought about all the things he'd seen and done in the time since and it brought him to the realization how much a child he had still been then.

"I believe in you." Kat broke the silence.

"What?" he asked.

"I believe that you'll get it back. Your…'whole-ness'." The effects of the alcohol had Kat grasping for the right word. When she found none she landed on 'whole-ness'. Dean looked back at her and raised an eyebrow, smiling bemusedly. Her cheeks reddened and they shared a moment, laughing at Kat's drunkenness.

* * *

Rowena thrust the large doors of her audience chamber shut with a swish of her hand. She was furious, that the girl Kat escaped capture. She did not like to be vulnerable. With the girl roaming around she could fall prey to Crowley and then he would have the key to toppling her whole operation. The plan she had weaved was thin, any snag could unravel it. In truth it had been born of anger and desperation and now Rowena scrambled to keep it together. It was risky, involving such powerful deities but the faith she had in her magical abilities was fueled by her desire for Crowley's downfall. She had to be decisive now, bring the fight in the open, hidden from those who did not know, but obvious to those who did. In doing so she would draw them out; the Winchesters in their inexorable desire to save people. She approached her desk and lightly brushed a manuscript of John Donne's Holy Sonnets to the floor. She bent to retrieve them and was caught by the last line on the page that lay open.

"And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die." She recited. She stood with a renewed purpose in her mission.


	11. Chapter 11

"That. Is. Ridiculous." Kat burst out, removing her head from the refrigerator. They trio had driven the seven hours from St. Louis to Lebanon Kansas and the entire time Kat had felt like an angsty teen being forced to spend her summer on her grandparents farm.

"We just brought you to a live- in library and you're worried about the contents of its fridge?" Dean ridiculed, coming up behind her.

"Just because I like books, does not mean I am willing to forgo my basic human functions for them. We need food. I have to make you guys dinner or something. Isn't that what people do for other people that save their lives…? Make a casserole?" she said sarcastically as she scratched her head cartoonishly.

"We'll make a run." Dean said placating. "Come on, let's get your stuff."

They made their way back out into the foyer and Dean noticed how little Kat had brought with her. He knew she'd had enough time to grab her things before the fire, so it was strange that the only items before him were: a suitcase of clothes, a box of books, her records and a tattered guitar case. It was both intriguing to him that she seemed to value so little. She was so self-sufficient, maybe streamlining her attachments was the most efficient way to live her life. She was an enigma to him, but something about the defense she meticulously built seemed so….familiar.

He carried the books and records as she grabbed the clothes and guitar. He led her down the hall that held him and Sam's rooms but turned left, giving her one of the rooms in the next corridor. It occurred to him that they'd never actually lived with a woman before. _They need…space right?_ He thought to himself as he shoved open the door with his elbow. He hoped that this room would work, but trying to work through all of her possible reactions was giving Dean a headache. He dropped the boxes on the floor with a soft thud. "Need help?" he offered.

"Nah…I don't have much." Kat shrugged.

* * *

An hour later Kat was wandering around the bunker. She had left her room but found no one but silence so, she walked. Every step felt as if she was getting closer to her own version of the wardrobe to Narnia; like she was a Pevensie and this unstable, changing life was about to become an adventure.

She lightly pushed open a door and found herself in a strangely modern looking gun range. The fluorescent lighting reminded her of a classroom but the air wasn't as stuffy. She flitted, graceful as a dancer, from case to case. When she got to the large array of knives hung deliberately in a pattern on the wall she heard the door open behind her. Kat did not turn however; she just kept looking at the gleaming weapons before her. They looked like a prism, refracting light off their sharp edges and forming random geometric shapes. _"A kaleidoscope of killing"_ she thought to herself.

"Quite the collection." She remarked as Dean stood next to her, folding his arms across his chest.

"They were here when we found the place. Those are-" Dean started, pointing at a pair of stiletto thin blades with ornate hand guard at the hilt.

"Are 17th century Parrying Daggers. French I'd say, invented to use in close combat with rapiers." She finished to Dean's astonishment. "Then you've got Sai's associated with Japanese martial arts but were probably invented in China…" She continued pointing at knives calling out their names. "Mark 1 Trench knife, World War I. Ka-Bar Military knife. Standard issue since 1942. But this one…" She lingered on a curved, slashing blade with a wooden handle carved with something that seemed like an apocalypse scene. "Very interesting. A Kukri. Nepalese. Used by farmers, adapted for war." She finally finished, leaving Dean in awe, but he didn't show it.

He simply turned to look at her, asking "What are you?"

She looked back at him quizzically. "A Pisces with asthma." she answered sweetly.

Dean burst out laughing, "Asthma? Really?"

"It's a very common affliction!" Kat defended, laughing along with him. They quieted and Dean shot his thumb over his shoulder gesturing at the door, stepping backwards towards it as he did.

"Sam and I were thinking food…you wanna come with me to grab the stuff for whatever concoction it is you're making us?"

"Absolutely." Kat said excitedly.

* * *

Dean was standing next to the shopping cart, surly expression on his face eyeing the bulbous purple vegetable Kat had placed in the cart.

He had been on board with the pasta she'd grabbed and the cans of tomatoes. He'd been skeptical of the red wine but allowed it. Vegetables were another matter entirely.

"What's that?" he asked childishly

"Eggplant." Kat answered without looking back.

"And that?" he continued, practically turning his nose up at the green rod in Kat's hands. She looked back then. The edges of his mouth were pulled so far down in distaste that he looked like a bulldog. She moved her hand closer to him to place the vegetable in the cart and he visibly recoiled.

"A zucchini. It's not gonna burn you Dean." She scoffed lightheartedly.

"It's unholy." Dean responded quickly.

Kat moved swiftly, poking Dean with the rounded edge of the zucchini. Each time she did she chose a new destination so, as he was pulling back from the previous hit, she had chosen a new spot. "Does that hurt?" she mocked. Kat continued to poke Dean as he got visibly more annoyed. "Is. It. Searing. Your. Flesh?" she emphasized each word with a soft thrust in his direction.

"Knock it off psycho!" he exclaimed exasperated. He flung his arms round in wild circles attempting to stave off the next attack by covering all possible surface areas. Kat guffawed unattractively and covered her mouth, embarrassed. His errant hand hit the zucchini with a smack and it landed on the floor. Kat gasped falsely and looked around in mock shock.

She stifled a laugh and murmured "If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine." Her voice deepened as low as it would go and she imitated the gravelly tone of Alec Guinness.

"Is that a threat Obi-Wan?" Dean asked with a playful edge in his voice. He had been surly and irritable the entire shopping trip. Finally, he took the bait and let a smile sneak onto his face. Kat caught him looking at her out of the corner of his eye and immediately lunged for her weapon.

Before Dean could get to the racks containing the arsenal of vegetables, Kat had grabbed her zucchini brandished it wildly and stabbed it into Dean's abdomen. He threw up his arms and grunted in frustration.

"ARGH! Bad form!" He cried, eliciting a glare from the mother of two standing 15 feet away from them. She grabbed her child's shoulders and pulled him closer pursing her lips, and continued to stare as she pushed her cart away from them.

Kat and Dean however, were blissfully unaware of scrutiny. Dean was magnetized by the loss of his inhibition. Kat knew very well how to be alive. Dean knew that despite hardship she would never lose her spark. But, not much of his own life involved living. The small things that most people forget are a luxury were often lost in its telling; but Dean was happy in that moment.

* * *

Kat bobbed in and out of the cart like a chicken plucking its feed. Dean added candy bars onto the conveyer belt. Every time she saw him add a new one she shot him a daring look with one eyebrow cocked but said nothing. As Kat was handing the clerk the money, she was caught by the news story flashing on the TV behind him. _32 hospitalized in small Nebraska town_. She was intrigued and blindly reached for the money to the clerk was giving back to her. She pocketed it and she moved closer to the screen reading the closed captions running at the bottom of the newscasters. _What is believed to be an unknown strain of the flu, has residents fighting for their lives in Beatrice Nebraska. The CDC has no answers for victims in light of the panic that has begun to rise._

"Real nice, leave me with the cart" grumbled Dean as he came up behind Kat.

She paid his comment no attention, but simply pointed at the screen and said "Look like your kind of deal?"

* * *

Sam and Dean sat at the kitchen table while steam rose from a pot of pasta Kat was boiling. Inside the oven, the eggplant roasted and the smell of garlic wafted around the kitchen. The cork gave a full-bodied _pop_ as it separated from the bottle, and Kat poured a hefty helping of wine into the sauce that was bubbling like lava in a small saucepan. She turned to Sam and Dean who were pecking away at their computer's keyboard. They had beer, but Kat shook the wine at them by way of offering. Both shook their heads no and Kat took a sip straight from the bottle.

"Classy." Said Dean looking up at her through his eyelashes.

"Just means I won't have to wash a glass." Kat shrugged. "So, what's the deal with the mystery disease?"

"Definitely a case. I don't think its Croatoan though Dean, they're just sick, and stay that way. Until they die." Sam said, with a crease between his brows. Kat ignored his reference to 'Croatoan' not having the energy to sit through an explanation if Sam thought it was irrelevant.

"I'm thinking a witch, probably low level. It's close to here though, so maybe Rowena has some idea where we are and is trying to draw us out." Offered Dean.

"Definitely a witch. There's no physical evidence in the coroners reports I'm reading to suggest that it's a monster. No point of entry, no rashes, nothing. Like a—"

Sam was cut off by Dean who said raucously, "Hex bag." He slammed shut his computer and went to the fridge for another beer.

"If it is Rowena, we're gonna need back up. We'll give Mark a call in the morning before we head out." Said Sam.

Dean nodded in ascent and looked to Kat who had gone back to the pot of pasta and emptied its contents. "You're not coming."

"I wasn't asking to. Going after the cauldron was enough for me. I'll stay here, where it safe, and warm and you guys can go chase the students of Hogwarts. But, if I did want to, you couldn't stop me if you tried." Kat said over her shoulder, as she pulled out the tray of eggplant and placed a serving onto each plate.

Once it was finished she brought them to the table. She sat, and Sam started eating immediately.

Dean looked at the plate and back up at Kat, and asked "Where's the meat?"

* * *

After about twenty minutes of arguing with Kat, Dean ate the meal. He did like it, but he'd never give her the satisfaction. They went into their separate rooms, acting more annoyed than they actually were, for show.

Dean had finally begun to fall asleep when a faint hum slipped under his door and into his room. He tried to ignore the noise at first but now that he was aware of it, he couldn't help but hear it. H pushed himself up out of bed begrudgingly and slumped down the hall in the direction it was coming from. He arrived at Kat's door, it was open a crack and he could see her moving around inside. Her pajama bottoms were so long they dusted the floor as she walked, and her baggy t-shirt hung limply around her waist. She had braided her mid-length hair into two braids which fought to tame her curls. They curved slightly upwards under her ears and didn't move at all when she moved her head. She brought her records to the center of her floor and had begun to lay them out, when Dean said, "If you don't quiet down, I may be forced to call the police."

She jumped and snapped her head up looking for the body that belonged to the voice. "I'm sorry! I'm the worst neighbor, I'm used to living by myself. I forgot where I was for a second." She rushed to the desk where she'd placed the turn table and spun the volume dial. She moved so quickly, and spoke with such earnest, that Dean almost felt sorry for disrupting her. He forgot, after everything, that she was new to this environment, and must feel some degree of awkwardness.

"You forgot where you were?" questioned Dean. The way Kat's mind worked made no sense to him. It was like she constantly thought of everything he'd never thought of in his life. Everything that came out of her mouth seemed completely original.

"Yeah? You've never done that? Just let go for a minute, get involved in other stuff?" She answered the question with a question, pushing the spotlight back on Dean. She had a way of doing that, he noticed; a way of tricking people into talking about themselves and taking any attention from herself.

He answered anyway, thinking it would end her interest in the line of questioning. "No. I prefer to live in a world that's real."

Kat laughed the unattractive laugh again. But Dean didn't care because of the way it made her eyes flash with excitement. "Yeah the real world," she snorted "where you live in a fortress, slay monsters, and rescue the innocent. You _are_ aware of how ridiculous that sounds right?"

"You got me there." Dean conceded. He straightened up a bit, not having anything else to say so he made to leave.

"Dean, come here and lay down." She said, straightfaced.

"Why?" he answered skeptically, knowing their minds were not in the same place.

"Just trust me."

If asked, he wouldn't have been able to defend why he went and laid on the bed; why he did trust her. But he did.

She put on a record Dean had never heard. The classic four piece band began an intro and a young voice, reminiscent of 90's garage rock, sang above it. He felt the bed depress as Kat laid down next to him, and he looked over at her. His eyes implored her to tell him what she was doing but she just made herself comfy, snuggling into the mattress on top of the covers. She exhaled loudly and intertwined her fingers and laid her hands on her stomach.

"Close your eyes" she commanded.

He did, and immediately felt out of control. He felt like he should put his hands over his chest, because laying face up towards the ceiling made him uneasy. Like he was vulnerable.

"Who is this?" he asked, trying to get her talking, in the hope she'd get up.

"The Orwells. Just listen, don't think." She responded curtly.

He listened to her breathing, and how it went in time with the song that was playing. A song that started off grotesque. Talking about death coming for the inhabitants of a house. As it progressed and became purely instrumental, Dean couldn't help but think on his own experience with Reapers. Even Death himself.

He wasn't sure how much time had gone by when Kat interrupted his thoughts. The song had changed.

"Forget where you are yet?" she asked quietly. Her voice deep but also soft and patient.

"I'm laying here, next to you, like an idiot." He quipped never opening his eyes.

* * *

 **A/N: I am so sorry for the hideously long period in between updates. Finals kicked my ass. A bit of a slow one again, but I needed to develop Dean/Kat before diving right into the main plot. Big stuff up next chapter, friends. If you are reading please Rate and Review, so I know what direction you guys might like to go with this! Thanks to MD for being my brain. -Kelly**


	12. Chapter 12

The sun glinted off the windshield of the Impala, temporarily blinding Dean. He squinted and waited for it to pass.

"So…you didn't sleep in your room last night." Stated Sam, as he rifled through some printouts Kat had given him.

"Who are you? My mother?" deflected Dean. He was continuing to fight with the sunlight that was exploding through the tree branches hanging over the road.

Sam shut his folder and stared straight ahead. He put his elbow on the edge of the open window and smiled contentedly. "Just sayin'" he said in absolutory tone.

"Well I'm saying nothing happened. We talked" Dean responded curtly, defenses raised.

At this Sam turned to face his brother, his face full of mock surprise. " _You_ talked?"

"Yeah." Said Dean simply, still focused on driving.

Sam was still looking at Dean with knowing eyes. Dean was already painfully aware of how different Kat was to him. She made him feel entirely out of character and he wasn't prepared to admit that to Sam.

"…with a girl?" Sam continued.

"Yes Sam, are we done with the interrogation?" snapped Dean with exasperation. Sam shook his head at Dean and faced forward. He smiled, in spite of himself, for his brother. Sam knew Dean better than he would care to admit, and Sam couldn't help but be happy for something good actually coming Dean's way.

* * *

They knocked on the door of the crummy motel room Mark had sent them to. He answered the hunter's way; with a gun pointed at them and a curt hello. He ushered them inside, sticking the barrel of the gun slightly out of the door, checking both sides and retreating in after them.

He was slightly older, maybe late 50's but retained a youthful zeal. Despite being a hunter he seemed happy, they didn't know if he had a family. It never occurred to Sam or Dean to ask; but whenever they worked with Mark he—cliché though it may be—was a breath of fresh air.

Now, he looked tired but still greeted them with a smile that reached his eyes. He placed the gun down on the table.

"Nice to see you again boys. All that business in St. Louis worked out?"

Sam smiled deliberately at Dean and said, "For now. We think what's going on here might have something to do with it actually."

"No way is this witch your girl. She's sloppy." Mark corrected

"How so?" said Dean stepping forward and dropping his duffle on one of the beds.

"Well, for one I know she's using a hex bag, and that it's in the water. That's how she's getting people sick. Which leads me to believe she works in government, with access to public water. And she's bad at magic to boot." He added with a laugh. "Some people are surviving this and their chalking it up to good diet or whatever. Not that I want people to be dying but, she's gotta be low level…talk about performance issues."

Dean laughed heartily and said, "Alright. So we find out who she is. And we find her hex bag. Case closed."

* * *

Back at the bunker Kat was staring at the cauldron. She couldn't read it. She'd tried everything, and spent the day moving around in frustration. She stood, she paced, she sat, and she lay. And no matter what she did she couldn't reconcile the conflicting runes carved into it. She could read primitive Irish fairly well. So she knew the ingredients that the cauldron required to access its power. But she hadn't studied the Celtic Zodiac, and therefore could not for the life of her understand why there were two tree signs depicted on the rim. They were faded…and perhaps over the years something had been lost. Something Kat would never get back and this attempt to decipher it was futile. Here, in the interminable library of the bunker she was trapped.

She felt her skin crawl with anxiety like small ants, prickling over her. Kat grabbed her keys and stormed into the garage. Got in her car, and drove away.

* * *

"Jeanine? The witch's name is Jeanine? Well I've gotta say, I'm not very intimidated." Derided Dean.

"Jeanine Throop. Public Works, Department of Water." Sam intoned.

"Well, can we catch her off guard? Jump her after work or something. Get her to tell us where in the water system the hex bag is?" suggested Mark who was chewing on a toothpick and cleaning his guns.

"I would definitely like to ask her a few questions…" said Dean "I'd say that's the best option.

"So tonight, then." Sam said with routine finality. "I'm gonna grab some stuff from the trunk." He swiftly shut the door and left Dean and Mark alone with their thoughts.

Dean's phone rang out abruptly but he answered it, remaining placid.

"What's up?" he said coolly.

"So, I translated some of the cauldron but there are two runes on it that conflict and I couldn't figure it out. So I went to the library and ended up getting a job there." Rushed Kat. She seemed to speak quickly, hoping Dean wouldn't register her words.

"Hold on, I'm just going over how many different ways I can ring your neck." Replied Dean, dripping with sarcasm.

"Look, I know what you're gonna say, but it's only two days a week…and I'm the kind of person that needs to be active all the time…and I just couldn't sit there anymore…and you're not my babysitter Winchester—" Kat rambled, only to be cut off by Dean who retained his uncharacteristic composure.

"No, I'm not. I just hope you know where you're going with this." He got up and crossed the room, Mark eyeing him warily. "I'm gonna call Cas, have him keep an eye out until we get back." He said somewhat quietly. He ran his hand over his face as if to wipe it of all emotion. Everything that came along with this girl was entirely out of his comfort zone.

"What, why? I'm fi—"Kat started.

"Because you matter. That's why." He sighed. She had created a dichotomy inside of him. Every part of him wanted to scream at her, curse her, and release of the anger he felt about everything. But he couldn't. The other half was a control...possibly empathy he had never experienced before.

"When are you going after the witch?" she shifted the subject quickly.

"Tonight, why?" he questioned.

"Because you matter too. Please be careful." She said evenly and hung up the phone.

He shut his own and went back to the table which held the plans for the Public Works office, Mark had gotten. Her sudden shift from defiance to compliance left him feeling…buoyant; but without the ability to identify it. More so, than he had with any other woman in his life. More than Lisa, because it wasn't an attempt at normalcy. It was real. There was no façade of what he believed life was supposed to be. It fit, exactly into the life he knew now he had been meant to live all along.

"Can I say something?" said Mark, interrupting Dean's delirium.

"Shoot." said Dean, sitting down.

"That was the girl right?" he asked gently. Dean nodded. "I've seen that look before. Little advice son; you get sober a lot faster than you get drunk. And it'll leave you feeling empty."

"Good thing, I don't get drunk." Dean cajoled.

"You say that now." Said Mark with a knowing smile.

* * *

The three hunters waited in the Impala outside the office building where the witch, Jeanine worked. It had been an hour since the office closed and she did not appear from the doors with the other workers who had walked away, carefree.

Twenty minutes went by and Sam saw a shadow flit quickly between the bushes that lined the building.

"Look, did you see that?" he whispered. Dean and Mark snapped their heads in its direction, but it was too fast. "Something moved in the bushes. We should move in. She might be planning something in there."

"Let's go," said Dean "I'll go through the front as a distraction, and you two take the the back for surprise." He finished. Before Sam could say anything he got out of the car and jogged towards the door.

"Hey! Come and get me you bitch!" he yelled brandishing his gun, and dropping it to the ground. Sam and Mark ran as swiftly as they could to the back of the building, staying in the darkness as much as they could. Just as they were out of eyeshot, they heard a vicious, grumbling snarl and Dean saying "Well, hello ugly."

The monster standing before Dean was something he'd never seen. It looked as if its legs were rooted in the ground. It had defined features; feet, legs, hands, but they were slightly misshapen. There was a thin layer of skin laid over what seemed like tree bark. Its grainy pale coating was dry and cracked. The eyes glowed dimly, yellow as a cat's. It snarled and revealed a set of fangs. Each of the teeth were jagged but reached a single point. They were humanoid, but brown almost like twigs. Dean stifled the fear in his chest, he had no idea what this was or how to defeat it. He was only armed with bullets, he and Sam made of the betony Kat used to blow up her apartment, and a machete.

The creature lunged forward, breaking its legs from the trunk-like roots it stood upon. Dean side-stepped it and extended his knife arm. And, in one movement took off the creature's head. It tumbled off but as soon as the body hit the ground roots seemed to spring from the neck, and crawl towards the lost appendage. Dean grunted in disgust and turned to run in the direction of the door.

He burst through, to three or four more of the creature, but no witch in sight. The room was large and open, with the waiting area divided by a waist-high wall. The creatures stood behind the wall, giving Dean the advantage. He fired one of the bullets at the head of the one standing nearest him, shooting it dead between the eyes. It crumbled and fell, creating a pile of ash. The other two lunged, as the other one had, their bodies creaking and groaning under their weight.

The furthest one got to Dean first, landing a punch on his cheek. Dean felt it split open and the warm and sticky blood flow into his mouth. He ducked and the cumbersome creature's own weight worked against it, tumbling it forward. Just as the second one got to him however, Dean aimed and shot it at point blank range, causing it to crumble like the first. Dean stooped and scooped up some of the material and shoved it into his pocket.

The door crashed open and he immediately snapped up his gun, but it was Sam and Mark that came through. He let out a huge sigh and asked "Find anything?"

"She's not here, but we found her office and we know where she hid the hex bag.

* * *

The next morning Dean stood at the edge of a hospital bed, posing as a CDC agent. They had destroyed the hex bag the night before, but all Dean saw in his visit to the hospital was death.

No one was getting better. They remained stagnant. As he stood in the room of a boy who looked dangerously like Sam did as a child, Dean felt compelled to end this here and now. As the doctor Dean had spoken to turned to the parents of the boy, he turned on his heel and whipped out his phone. "No one's better. Destroying the hex bag didn't work." He spoke into it.

"She's gotta be the source of the power then. She was just using the hex bag to exacerbate it." Said Sam

"Exacerbate? Big word college boy…" mocked Dean

"Stop it. Don't do that thing where you use humor to cope. I'm not in the mood." Sam counseled.

"Get out of my head." He quipped. "I'm gonna head back—"Dean stopped mid-sentence. He saw at the other end of the hall, a woman in a cheap pencil skirt and mismatching blazer. Her large, gaudy necklace was the center-point of her ensemble however; it gleamed weirdly off of the fluorescent lights.

What had actually caught Dean's eye was her glare and the fact that she was seemingly mumbling to herself. She stood with a false sense of confidence, but faltered when she saw Dean staring at her.

"Dean, what's up?" questioned Sam on the other line. Dean forgot he was still there.

"Found her" was all he said before hanging up the phone and walking towards her.

Her eyes flew open wide and she said louder, an incantation. Dean braced himself for the blow of whatever she had sent his way. Nothing came. Instead, she winced, and grabbed her head. Her arm flew out to the counter of the nurse's station, to steady herself. She collapsed anyway though. A few people rushed to help but Dean just stood there dumbstruck at the woman's idiocy.

* * *

After Dean had explained he was a part of the CDC he'd managed to get custody of the unconscious woman's body. He sneaked it out of the hospital, and dumped it into the Impala.

When Sam opened the door he saw Dean, deadpanned, holding Jeanine over his shoulder.

The hunters bound her and positioned her upright in a chair and splashed water in her face. She awoke and began spluttering, she looked absurd as her heavy makeup started running down her face like a water color painting.

"Wha—where, where am I?" she demanded, as she gained cognizance.

"You're exactly where you didn't want to be." said Sam, "Nice trick at the office building by the way. Not so great at the hospital though. I'm gonna go ahead and assume you're not a natural born witch. You're using someone else's power, and you're not very good at it."

"I am _too_!" she splurted indignantly "I have moved up the ranks of the New Coven very quickly."

"New Coven?" broke in Dean.

She steeled her face and glared at them. "I am not going to tell you anything." Her voice sounded absurd making claims she couldn't back up. It was high pitched but raspy at the same time. The combination was very unpleasant. Just for that, Dean landed a nice slap on her cheek.

"Not the face!" she screamed, panicking. Mark smirked at Dean, as a signal to manipulate the weak spot she'd just revealed.

Dean pulled out a knife that shone with warning in the dim room. "An eye for an eye." He said simply gesturing to the newly formed scab high on his own cheekbone.

He took a step forward purposefully slow. "What were those things anyway? Rowena give them to you? He questioned smoothly.

Dean lifted the knife and laid it flesh against her other cheek bone. He applied just enough pressure, so that a thin cut appeared underneath it. She squirmed under it, but surprisingly retained her composure.

"Ok." Dean growled. In one swift movement the knife had left her cheek and was perched directly under her nose. This time, Dean pressed harder and she squealed loudly.

"Alright! Alright! Yes it's Rowena, she used the dark force that was released by the Mark of Cain to give power to more witches! My task was to work my way through small towns giving people her virus." She burst out eyeing the knife with dread.

"Why?" Dean asserted.

"To make more of the Fomori. She wants them as an army to kill her son! Stop it!" she wailed.

"Crowley? This is all about Crowley?" said Sam as he stepped forward. She moved her eyes in his direction too terrified to risk shifting her head.

"And the girl. She needs her for a spell. Because of her lineage, it has to be her." She added, grasping at any information she knew that might keep her nose on her face.

"What about Kat?!" roared Dean, jumping back into the interrogation. He lifted the knife up so the lower half of her face was pulled up with it. Her overlarge teeth became more exposed as Dean dug the knife into her cartilage.

"There's a warehouse! I know Rowena is keeping something in there, a weapon! It's in Boston somewhere, that's all I know I swear! Let me go!" she begged.

Dean removed the knife from her face and instantly thrust it into her chest. She fought against her bindings in a vain attempt to escape but she met the knife regardless. Its blade pierced into her center and drained her of life.

"Dude!" Sam chided

"Sam she cursed _herself_ on accident at the hospital. She was as low-level as low-level gets. She was evil and she had to go." Dean defended.

"Dean's right. She would've gone right back to Rowena." Mark intoned, standing from his position at the table. He crossed the room and started untying the corpse. Sam sat on the couch and looked at Dean, understandingly.

"I'm not gonna let anything to get to her dude." Dean said. Sam knew the _her_ Dean was referencing. He couldn't bring himself to let an innocent fall into Rowena's hands. Especially since he had first hand experience with her.

"Neither am I." affirmed Sam.


	13. Chapter 13

Kat sat alone in the great room of the bunker. The last two days had become consumed by the act researching, rather than actually getting to the answers. Words flew off the papers that were spread around her and Kat felt like they garbled together creating static in her brain. The cauldron still sat in its place on the long wooden table but Kat ignored its overwhelming presence.

She held her guitar, and allowed her fingers to revisit her favorite chords. The tall ceilings reverberated the sound beautifully. For a moment, she was blissfully unaware of her surroundings.

"That's nice." A gruff voice said from behind her. She jumped involuntarily and her hands shook so that a dissonance rang out. She spun in her chair and saw Castiel standing about 15 feet away, looking sheepish.

"Dean said you'd be coming. Sorry to disappoint but I don't have work today. So you've…flown here for nothing." Kat said apologetically.

The angel stepped forward and shook his head. "I wouldn't say that. I just spoke to Dean and they'll be back soon, I have news from Heaven that is of some importance."

"Oh." Kat shrugged. She started to get up, holding the instrument by its neck.

"Don't stop on my account. I actually quite like music, although I don't know much about it." He confessed.

She regarded him with pity, getting the impression that he didn't know much about anything outside of damage control. What did angels do in their spare time...if they had any? Did they purely exist, waiting for catastrophe?

"I've always enjoyed the way a simple melody could bring humans together. No matter what, music is always the infallible thread." He continued.

She wasn't surprised by how profound he was. She was embarrassed that she had nothing at that caliber to offer him back. So, she held out the old guitar.

"I could teach you." Kat offered.

"I would like that very much." Castiel said.

* * *

Two hours later Castiel had been able to pluck out Knockin' on Heaven's Door by Bob Dylan. Albeit, it was a simplified version, so that just the tune was noticeable. For the grand finale—after about thirty seconds of repositioning his fingers—he strummed a full chord.

Castiel smiled proudly and Kat graciously applauded. The door at the top of the stairs swung open to Sam carrying two duffle bags and Dean, a stack of books.

"You brought me home a souvenir, how thoughtful." Kat called out to Dean, who looked morose but allowed a smirk at her comment.

Cas stood up and announced, "I have news from Heaven." He was clutching the guitar in one hand and Dean eyed it suspiciously.

"What are you doing with that Cas?" Sam asked.

"Oh, Katherine taught me how to play Bob Dylan." He said plainly.

"Which song?" interrogated Dean. The brothers had made their way down the stairs and placed their belongings on the table.

"Knockin' on Heaven's Door." Kat said, hoping the irony wouldn't be lost on them like it had been on Cas.

"That's awesome." Said Dean and Kat giggled proudly.

"I thought so." She added

Sam began laying out the books in smaller piles, Kat assumed by genre or something similar. "What's the news from on high Cas?" he asked, redirecting the conversation.

"Well it's not good, I'm afraid. The angels are refusing to enter the fight against Rowena. They say this is a pagan war and it is not their place. I tried, but my word only carries so far after all that has happened."

"Try again. The witch told us that this is more or less all about revenge on Crowley. The demons are bound to start fighting at some time, and that's what you guys do best, right? Smite?" explained Sam.

"Rowena has these goons working for her. The witch called them Fomori." Added Dean.

"They're nasty pieces of work. Balor creates them, they're essentially human husks that are reclaimed by the nature they're born from. They look kind of like trees. But, like, the ones with yellow eyes in cartoons that scared the crap out of me as a kid. They were there at the bar" Kat supplied.

"Balor…like the guy you told us Kat is descended from Cas?" Sam broached.

"The very same." Confirmed Cas. The brothers shared an understanding look.

It didn't go unnoticed by Kat. "What?" she asked.

It was Dean that stepped closer and took a set across from her. "The witch also told us that Rowena needs you for something, we don't know what, but it's because of your lineage. So that's why she didn't just kill you all those times. She needs you."

"Ohhhhhhhh." Groaned Kat as she momentarily placed her head in her hands, rubbed her face, then pointed her right at the cauldron. Her left she balanced on her knee and rested her head in the bend of her hand and wrist.

She felt removed from the rest of them, like she was on her own island and they were talking to each other through paper cups attached by string. Words disappeared into the nether, were lost in translation, as her mind took all of the information she had gathered in the last few days and glued it together.

"I couldn't figure it out. There are two runes next to each other on the rim. You see? That one's Rowen and the other is Alder. They're ogham's, part of the Celtic Zodiac system but I looked further into them individually and in the Celtic creation myth, Rowen created the first woman and Alder the first man. I couldn't get past why they were both there and yet the utmost of opposite. Now, I know what she's doing." Kat vocalized.

"What, what's she doing?" pressed Dean, who never removed his green eyes from her brown.

"She's trying to take in more power. She must think I know the whereabouts of any males left in my family. There are none, not since my uncle died. But if she combines one part man one part woman, i.e. Rowen and Alder she'll be able to absorb the 'powers' of whichever man she chooses. She's looking for a male from _my_ family because as Cas pointed out, I'm apparently descended from Balor, or whatever. In myth his grandson Lugh, killed him. She's using Balor's army but is probably trying to cut out the middle man and to kill him she needs a male from my bloodline." Kat sat back in the chair and covered her eyes with her small hand, mind reeling.

She felt slightly out of breath after speaking with such fervor for so long. "This sucks." She added.

"We've got a good start. We'll figure this out." Assured Sam.

* * *

By the end of the day, they had ironed out the rest of legend and pieced more on to where they could.

Out of frustration and the pressure that had suddenly fallen on her shoulder, Kat retreated to the kitchen. She put together a simple meal and brought it back out to Sam and Dean. She placed her forefinger in her mouth, absentmindedly remembering it had been burnt by steam from the stove.

"What's up?" asked Dean eyeing her intently.

"Nothing? Oh. I burnt my finger, its fine." She brushed off his concern quickly.

"It's not fine. Grab some beer and take five. Go watch a movie or something." Dean commanded, and Kat knew it was not a request.

She did as he said, and Dean watched her walk away, part of him wishing she'd stay.

* * *

Kat had drunk through six of the seven beers she'd grabbed. It wasn't her intention, but the realization that fate was at work in her life had taxed her confidence. Over the noise of the television she heard a firm rap on the door.

"Come in." she said as she swung her legs around and sat Indian-style on the bed. A loose tank top ran parallel to her slouched shoulders and Dean entered the room.

"How you doing?" he said tentatively, sitting on the desk chair.

"Better," she shrugged and smirked, liberal in her movements because of the alcohol. "Little drunk." She pinched her forefinger and thumb together and her eyes squinted along with the motion.

Dean smiled at her, he found her exuberance adorable. He realized he had remained silent for thirty seconds too long and broke eye contact. He ran his hands along the arms of the chair and readied himself to stand. Then he recognized the song coming from the television.

"Dirty Dancing….really?" he gibed.

"Roadhouse is on next. Dance with me." Kat replied. She placed her beer on the nightstand and moved on all fours to the edge of the bed. She kept her eyes on Dean—who looked slightly shocked—and swiftly pushed her legs off the bed to stand. He reached his hand out for hers as if he was afraid she'd fall. Instead, her fingers firmly took hold of it and pulled him upright.

"No. No. No. No. No." Dean repeated melodically. But Kat wrapped her thin arms around his waist and bit her bottom lip, laughing at how ridiculous he looked. He was forced side to side by her arms but he stared at the ceiling with exasperation.

"Ok, then sway with me. Like we're at an 80's prom." She compromised.

His face turned downward as she moved her hands from his waist to his shoulders. It was strange for Dean to be the victim. The prey to Kat's predator. But he allowed her hand to pull his face to hers, and kissed back. Knowing full well he'd been beguiled.

* * *

The pair weren't concerned with how much time had gone by. Dean laying on his back with one arm under his head and Kat on her stomach, with both arms crossed under her cheek. The sheets lay in disarray half on the floor and half on the bed, delicately draped across them both.

"Are you ever gonna fall asleep…? I've been waiting here so I can sneak out." Dean joked.

"Would you have left your number on a napkin at least?" Kat asked in jest.

"Not a chance." He replied, without remorse.

"Scoundrel!" Kat exclaimed in mock rage as she leaned in for one more kiss. She pulled back and rested on her elbows. "I've never been much of a sleeper. I like silence, but, like, when it's _supposed_ to be, you know? I can't tell if I like the purity of it in the early morning or very late at night better. This might sound weird, but they're different. To me at least." She confessed, with a quick shrug of her shoulders.

"I'd pick night, I guess. When things were simpler, before—hell, before the boatload of crazy that's been our lives the past couple of years—Sam and I used to lay on the hood of the Impala for hours just looking at the stars." Dean said.

The statement wasn't a confession because he felt so weirdly comfortable telling Kat things. She seemed just as lost now as he had felt all his life; only, under different circumstances. But all of the explanations he could make to himself didn't matter. Talking to each other was quite possibly the one thing Dean—or Kat for that matter—didn't have to waste energy thinking on.

"What _has_ happened to you two?" Kat sighed.

Dean grinned flatly and sighed, "I'm almost tempted to tell you to read the books." However, he pulled Kat closer, and shared some of their experiences, in his own way.

* * *

After they'd both fallen asleep, Dean awoke unexpectedly. It was like his body woke him up out of reflex. He wasn't allowed to relax, not completely anyway. Gingerly, he slid off the bed. Kat had faced the other way but curled her back into his side. Her hair was splayed out across the sheets. It looked like the contrast of shadow puppets on a white wall, sticking up in random places. The alarm clock on the bedside table read 3:13. He rubbed his eyes. As he was going to pull the blanket further up to cover Kat he noticed a small shadow above her heart. It fit perfectly under one of her tattoos. The shape of it looked like a child had colored outside the lines of the Celtic knot symbol that was inked on her sternum. It must be a birthmark, so faint he hadn't noticed it before. The shape looked oddly familiar to him, but Dean pushed it away for the moment and placed a light kiss on Kat's forehead before he left. Just because he was alone.

As he went to the kitchen he was surprised to see both Sam and Cas still awake in the great room. Their work looked like it had come to a stopping point, and they were talking in hushed tones.

Sam looked up and waved a hand in greeting. "Took a while." He said passively

Cas looked at Sam quizzically and before Dean could deliver his witty retort he said bluntly, "I think we all know Dean was fornicating Sam."

Dean stopped short, looked at him hopelessly and continued to walk towards them again as he said, "Nice Cas. Very delicate. Did you find anything else?"

"No, just all the legends corroborating everything we realized earlier tonight." Sam said in one breath.

Dean slouched in a chair, his posture lacking. The three of them sat for a moment in their own minds. It was probably the lateness of the hour, which kept them from real conversation.

"You should brand her ribs like you did ours, Cas." Dean suggested, tiredly.

"I will. But first I will relay this news to Heaven. Hopefully they will see things differently." And with a whooshing noise he was gone.

* * *

The door to Rowena's audience chamber in the sticky warehouse creaked open dramatically. The room, was situated above the warehouse, accessible only by a small metal staircase. It had three cement walls and a glass one, overlooking the action down below. It was similar to watching ants move around the vertical tanks with built-in mazes for them to climb. Everything ran smoothly. All of Rowena's followers knew their place and objective and worked, some without orders at all.

"There's been an event, ma'am." Said the intruder's voice.

Rowena did not turn to face whomever it was. She held out one dainty finger and cleared her throat.

"Madam," the voice amended, "The witch you placed in Nebraska has been terminated."

"Let me guess….the _Winchesters_ … Jeanine was hardly competent but it's high time I stopped underestimating those boys. Release Cernnunos. He will probably fail to remove Samuel from the picture. We just need him to have his…effect...on Dean" Rowena ordered with a wicked smile.

* * *

 **A/N: Little bit of a short one. Very talky, and developmental, but this is a love story after all. I hope everyone is enjoying my interpretation of Dean actually experiencing love...under the lens of my microscope. Again, all I own is Kat. Rate and Review please!**


	14. Chapter 14

Since Kat had fallen asleep and Cas left without branding her ribs, Sam offered to drive her to the library the next day. Dean had refused, citing her "stupidity" in getting a job at a "time like this". Kat had used all of her poise fighting Dean and defending her position, but now she sat in the passenger seat of the Impala feeling utterly defeated.

"He doesn't hate you, you know." Said Sam soothingly. "He just cares, and doesn't know how to show it."

Kat stared at the Oldman Memorial Library's looming steps and couldn't will herself to move.

"I just…This is all too much. I mean I've never really had anyone in my life. Now I've got an extremely old witch possibly bent on killing me and you two. I've just never been good at staying put. I've run away from everyone but now there's actual danger, clear and present danger and I'm essentially powerless to stop it. The whole point of running before was that _I_ was in control. Now that philosophy doesn't apply and…everything is just a mess." Kat blurted out. Her breath was coming in short rasps and she sunk her head into her hands.

She could feel pressure rising in her face as if tears were threatening to fall but they didn't. She felt entirely ridiculous having her long overdue self-doubt in front of Sam. Of the two of them, she knew he was probably the most empathetic but revealing herself, not matter to whom, was not her strongpoint. So, she reverted to anger.

More to herself than Sam she said, "No, no, now I'm gonna go to the job that was supposed to make me feel in control, and useful, even if it's mundane. Even though now, it'll probably make me feel as miserable as he did." Before Sam could respond she got out of the car and slammed its door.

She rubbed her eyes, expecting there to be bubbles of hot water but felt nothing. She stowed her emotion and pushed open the door and walked through the standing alarms that buzzed if some rebel tried to leave with a book.

She saw two women sitting at the large circulation desk. The taller woman, who looked about 30 wore a knee length sundress and a light blazer. Her blonde hair was pulled into a posh high pony tail. The other, had a younger face dotted with freckles. She was wearing a floral skirt with a black camisole and cardigan over it. She was flipping her red hair angrily off her shoulders. As Kat got closer she heard the conversation they were embroiled in more clearly.

"Well, Harry and Ron run into Neville at St. Mungo's and it's a scene they should've kept because his parents—who's names are…?" The red headed one spoke rapidly, but paused waiting for the blond to answer.

"I don't know April, just accept that I'm never going to read these books." She said, and it was definitely not the answer April wanted to hear. She shot her a grumpy look and went back to typing.

At this point Kat had reached the desk. "Frank and Alice. Their names were Frank and Alice." She said matter-of-factly. This statement stood as her introduction. April opened her eyes wide and smiled pointedly at her coworker.

"See, Ruth. They are a well worth it, and far-reaching series. She said smugly.

Ruth extended her hand over the counter and said, "You must be Katherine."

Kat reciprocated her motion and shook her hand back and said, "Kat. It's nice to meet you."

* * *

The work day passed quickly and Kat had forgotten about her eventful morning. It turned out Ruth Carter and April St. John were the only two librarians on staff. The few other workers were volunteers from the local high school who mainly put back books and texted their friends.

April was an excitable 22 year old with a boyfriend named Stewart, and a dog named Mimi. Ruth was a 32 year old with three cats and no room for nonsense. They were an opposite pair but somehow worked well off of each other. Kat wasn't sure where she fit between them, all she knew was, they were the perfect distraction.

Their workplace banter had turned into an invitation for drinks and Kat had no desire to go back to the bunker. Her head was reeling. There was the horrible sensation that everything in her life was out to get her. The feeling that her very existence was key some great plan; and there was Dean Winchester.

Throughout drinks with the women she made mental lists and charts of everything she felt towards him. Ultimately she was left asking herself _'so what'_?

He'd said she mattered to him but did she matter just because he valued human life highly? Or, did he get the same tightness in his chest; the same warmth that crawled like vines up to her cheeks when he saw her, that Kat did?

When April asked if she was seeing anyone she had brushed it off because to Kat an emotional attachment was a daunting prospect. She truly didn't think she could handle it, giving a part of herself away that she'd carefully locked in the far recesses of her psyche. She knew him though, because last night he had told her something of his life. He'd told her of a father figure named Bobby and a friend named Charlie. These things obviously carried immense weight for him; but she knew that he was holding back. Was he only a serial adulterer who knew exactly what to say to keep her interested and feeling wanted?

Kat's doubt in her own ability to be loved was what kept her from hoping he matched her affection. Her mind was spinning. Possibly from the fact that she was running it in circles like a remote controlled car on a track, or from alcohol.

* * *

Kat texted Sam the name of the bar and asked for a ride back to the bunker as April and Ruth left. She prayed she could just sneak in and lock herself in her room. She made another mental note to have Cas do whatever-it-was to her ribs so she didn't have get carted around like a pubescent teen.

She was happy she'd gone today, happy she worked, and met people. It had removed her from the tornado she had stepped in. With her head clearer—at least in the crazy witch sense—she felt she could go back to researching and actually find something. Instead of what she'd been doing, which was: read the same sentence twenty times with no takeaway.

She shivered absentmindedly and a gravelly voice sounded from behind her. "Cold?" it said. She turned and saw a man with brown hair who was dressed a little too sharply for the bar whose front steps she sat on.

The suit was black and the tie red. He made the hairs on the back of Kat's neck stand up. "A little." She said warily.

"Please, take my coat." Said the man courteously.

Kat held up her hands in protest. "No, no. My ride will be here soon." She hoped very much that Sam would be.

"What an interesting tattoo." He continued smoothly, taking a step closer. Kat stood then, he defenses eyes shot to the anti-possession symbol on her forearm that was visible past the rolled up sleeves of her thin sweater.

"Thanks, its new." She retorted shortly.

"Does it have a special meaning?" he pressed.

"It was more practical than anything actually." She responded quickly. He took another step closer. This time she backed up and just as she did, headlights spun into the dirt lot. The Impala pulled up between Kat and the stranger. It was not Sam that exited the driver's side, but Dean. Looking enraged, holding a gun aloft.

He moved to stand in front of Kat holding his hand behind him and finding her wrist. He pulled her close to his back, so close she could feel the heat rolling off of him.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't shoot you right now Crowley." Said Dean coldly.

Despite her fear, Kat couldn't help but roll her eyes at the new development in the craziness.

"I'm protecting my investment. Where's your moose?" demanded the man named Crowley.

"Researching ways to kill _your_ mother. Thanks for the help by the way. All of this is because she wants you dead. And what the hell is your investment?" Dean demanded.

"All in good time squirrel. At the moment, I'd rather Rowena not get her hands on that pretty little thing there." He cooed with a devilish and confident grin. He pointed at Kat.

Dean stepped forward dragging Kat with him, gun still raised. "Dammit Crowley, what do you want with her!"

"Not so fast Dean. Don't want to cut the foreplay short, do we?" Crowley retorted, smarmily.

In the second it took for Kat to poke her head around Dean's shoulder Crowley's eyes had turned red. He raised his thumb and forefinger and snapped his fingers. Kat focused intently on him. He disappeared instantly, leaving her alone in the lot with Dean. His sudden departure ignited Kat's final alienation from sanity.

"What the hell what that? This is a family affair now? Because maybe this is a case for child services, not Winchester Inc. plus, Katherine Louise Taveras!" Kat yelled, ripping her arm away from Dean.

"This is why, when I told you not to go… _you shouldn't have gone_!" Dean growled condescendingly. As he spoke he turned to face her. His lips were pursed acting as a bulkhead for his rage.

"This is going to happen no matter where I go, what I do, or who I'm with." she asserted, furious that he was rehashing this morning's feud.

"But there's a way to be safe about it. You do it smart or you don't do it at all!" said Dean, his voice rising slightly in volume and in fervor.

"This life can never be simple like that. I can't just help from afar occasionally and other than that I'm uninvolved. They are after me, and every time this bitch makes a move something bad happens and ultimately, it's my fault. Do you not see that? Do you not understand why I'd need to get away from that?" Kat implored, in an attempt to reveal her understanding of everything to Dean. She didn't know how to openly admit to feeling hysteria cloud her brain. The loss of her cognizance to the outbreak of helplessness was the root cause, but how did she explain that to Dean; who saw the world in black and white?

She paced as her lungs began to grasp for air, like leaves crave water as the seasons change from summer to fall.

"It is not your fault. So… to put it simply—because you could probably find a way to overcomplicate the game of Candyland—don't do stuff that will make you feel that way. Like put other people in danger by going to work! You won't make it through this if you carry all that guilt with you!" Dean exploded. He waved his arms in exasperation, unashamed of the spectacle they were becoming.

"If I had wanted you to read me a fortune cookie. I'd 'ave asked Winchester! Let's try to think with a little ingenuity." The nasty, sarcastic remarks flew out of her mouth before she could stop them because the terror she felt had begun to externalize in irrationality. She scuffed the arid dirt in her frustration and it dislodged some tightly packed stones. It seemed she had used more force than she meant to, because her foot flew into the tire of the Impala. It hit with a rubbery reverberation. The tiny pebbles bounced off of the wheel well like hailstones.

Kat felt her body leave the ground as Dean grabbed her shoulders. To her astonishment, in the next moment she found herself pinned to the side of the car.

"I don't care how mad you are at me, or the world, but do _NOT KICK MY CAR_!" roared Dean pointing a finger right between her eyes.

Kat didn't know what do. She was staring into piercing eyes; the color of the Atlantic Ocean. They were as turbulent as the storms that pass over it. She was scared, for the first time since meeting him. Kat felt her throat close and her whole body start to shake. Her lungs had finally run out of oxygen. Any attempt to force air through the increasingly small passageway was futile. Seeing that Kat's energy—and air—were fading fast, Dean released her. She stumbled, coughing as she rummaged through her bag, which she'd conveniently discarded on the ground nearby, for her inhaler.

If she weren't so terrified she'd feel asinine falling to pieces like this. She took one huge drag of the steroid and immediately felt the pressure in her chest recede. She could feel the redness ebbing away from her cheeks and she looked back at Dean who was frenetic. Partly over the car, and Kat's meltdown simultaneously.

Enabling her lungs to work gave her body the green light to translate the renewed deep breathes into sobs. They were almost impersonal, like tears were the logical next step in her shakesperian-like descent into madness. Her small frame was wracked with sobs that she neither wanted nor actually cared about. She purged, but not because her emotions had gotten the better of her. It was because she had lost the energy to do anything else.

Dean knelt down beside her and reached under her arms and stood her up. She immediately burrowed into his chest. Her hands reached upwards to cover her face. They acted as a barrier between the smoky smell of his jacket and her tears. He wrapped his arms around her. As an added comfort, he rested his chin on top her head. Dean didn't say anything; feeling partly responsible for her capricious outburst. Somehow he remembered the times he had stood in her shoes but had been unable to act on it. For a reason he was only beginning to come to terms with; he wanted more than anything in this moment to erase her pain.

A drunk couple loudly stumbling down the steps broke Kat and Dean apart. They looked at each other and immediately parted, heading to the driver and passenger doors of the Impala.

After about three minutes of quiet contemplation Kat said brusquely, "Well…that was embarrassing. Of all the times I've imagined having my epic catharsis, it was never in front of someone.

Dean laughed. It was the type of quick and carefree eruption that follows something serious. Almost as if to counteract the dark, his brain supplanted unavoidable light. The kind of laugh that bubbles up at the absolute worst time but there's no way to hold it back. "Honestly…I was waiting for it. We've put a lot on you these past few weeks. But...you know what I'm hung up on is… 'Louise'…" he responded with a sly grin.

She turned to face him, with a look of lighthearted skepticism on her face. "Really? That's your takeaway? Yes, my middle name is Louise…whaddayah gonna do?" she said, a slight accent peeking through in the last phrase.

"Ah, don't be too hard on yourself, I don't even have a middle name." Dean comforted.

"Well. I believe that puts me at an advantage." She paused. "But really, I'm sorry about before. I was acting ridiculously." Kat looked down.

"Having emotions isn't ridiculous. And…uh…don't feel like you can't talk to me about stuff." Dean kept looking at the road as he stumbled around the way to tell her what he wanted to. "I don't like to see you upset" he added.

"Wow. That might be the most affectionate thing you've ever said to me." Kat mocked.

Her reaction was opposite from what Dean had expected. "Well, now you ruined it." He joked back, feeling a little sheepish. He threw his left hand up from the wheel for a moment and smacked his lips for emphasis.

Kat laughed heartily and Dean smiled because of it. Kat crept her hand over to Dean's knee. She placed it there softly, rubbing her thumb back and forth over a centimeter of the denim. He stared at it amazedly, through his periphery. Then, he actually looked at Kat who was focusing on the flat, dark landscape passing outside her window.

Unsurely, Dean took his right hand off the wheel and put it on top of Kat's. He felt it jolt almost imperceptibly at his touch. But he left it; encompassing hers.

* * *

 **A/N: Again, I don't own anything but Kat. Also, I'm unsure if the Winchester's actually don't have middle names or they are just continually unspecified. And, if anybody's interested, the song that acted as my personal backdrop for this chapter is: Colour Me In by Damien Rice. Until next time, Kelly.**


	15. Chapter 15

"I've decided to write a book," Kat declared one morning at breakfast.

In the three weeks that passed she'd spent her nights in Dean's room, and woken up happily next to him. Of everything that was extraordinary, this was the action that felt most ordinary. Call it trite or mundane, but Kat preferred to think of it as tranquil.

Dean looked up over the newspaper he was holding, his eyes still sleepy. Even her bold statement had failed to fully remove the disinterest in being awake. Sam, however, reacted with a look that said, _'Is that so?'_

"A book? Like some erotic romance novel…what?" pressed Dean.

"No, you weirdo. Like a definitive record of everything pertaining to Rowena or the supernatural in general, really. Think about it, you guys have journals and stuff but what if the information was properly organized? A Table of Contents, maybe…?" Kat said in an attempt to mollify him.

"Now you're getting fancy." Dean mocked.

"I think it's a great idea," Sam stated as he placed his coffee cup down on the table. "And you can mess around with the factual stuff you already know. See if it has any practical applications in the supernatural world."

"Excellent input Sam." Kat congratulated. "Especially since we haven't had much activity on that front in a little while so if I do this now it's like I'm still doing something," she finished.

Dean's cell phone started to ring as Kat began to tell Sam her plan to start with popular herb used by druids because the betony theory had worked out in their favor. He clicked the talk button and said "Hello." Kat and Sam ignored him and continued talking.

"Hey Dean, it's been a while. How are you doing?" Jody Mills greeted

"Just fine Jody," he shot a look at Kat who was shaking with excitement at something Sam had said. He smiled and repeated, "Just fine. How about you?" he added.

"Well, that's why I'm calling. I think I have a case for you. A friend called yesterday and mentioned weird stuff happening in the national park in the area."

"Hold on, Jody let me put you on speaker." Dean interrupted and he removed the phone from his ear and placed it in the middle of the table. Kat and Sam stared at him. "Ok, go." He prompted.

"Alright, so he said that a woman drowned in a little over a foot of water, which I thought was possible but questionable. They think she had been hiking and tripped into the bank of the lake. But then he told me about the animal attacks. A man was hunting and was attacked by an elk."

"An elk? I mean I wouldn't take kindly to someone hunting me but I've never heard of them attacking a human before." Sam responded.

"Exactly. It impaled him with its antlers against a tree. Sounded like your kind of deal." Jody explained.

"That's really broad, though. It's like all nature is lashing out." Kat said pensively.

"Who's that?" Jody asked, surprised.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Kat. It's nice to meet you…informally." Kat said quickly.

"Nice to meet you too," said Jody dubiously.

"Kat's right. It seems like there's a bigger player here. Some god maybe? Like that Norse scarecrow case, we worked a few years back, remember?" Sam suggested.

"How could I forget? Alright, thanks, Jody. We'll do some research and check it out." Dean said by way of departure.

"Ok. Keep in touch boys." She said fondly.

* * *

Kat's sleeping form lay on a couch in a room off of the library. Dean had heard music playing softly from under the door and as he opened it light spilled inwards framing Kat. There were scribbles and papers all over the floor like stepping stones on a stream.

Dean watched her chest rise and fall. In the past few weeks, he had learned so much about her. It wasn't often that Dean had the time to focus on anyone's life but his own. For instance, he now knew that Kat's father was Puerto Rican and that she was born from a one night stand. She had joked about it incessantly and even made he and Sam rice and beans for emphasis. She loved to cook.

Dean also noticed things that she didn't tell him. Like when she concentrated she'd nibble on the inside of her cheek. Or that she always seemed to sing Ob-La-Di, by the Beatles, in the shower before any other song.

These and many other things factored into the equation that ended with him loving her. He'd never admit that but then again he never felt the need to. Kat never pressured him and she certainly didn't say anything either. They just were.

Dean walked to her and gently brushed the hair out of her face. "Hey," he said, "time for bed."

She stirred and her eyes flew open, startled. "Sorrysorrysorry," She mumbled.

"Don't apologize, come on," Dean instructed, grabbing her phone and shutting off the music, but leaving the mess.

When he had managed to lead her wobbling form down the hall and into his room she plopped on the bed.

"How did you end up falling asleep I thought you were working?" he asked while pulling a leg into his sweatpants.

"I was. But then I felt like reading and reading always makes me tired." She answered, more clearly but still didn't open her eyes.

"What were you reading?" he asked as he climbed into bed beside her.

She rolled to meet him, laying an arm across his chest. "Some poetry by Seamus Heaney. I don't usually like poetry but he writes about Irish folklore so I thought it might help."

"Did it?" Dean said on his inhale, breathing in the smell of her shampoo.

"Nope. I just ended up getting a verse stuck in my head." She said breathily before reciting it, "'There are the mud-flowers of dialect. And the immortelles of perfect pitch. And that moment when the bird sings very close. To the music of what happens.' It's my favorite."

"I like the way it sounds when you say it," said Dean. He watched as Kat finally lost the fight against consciousness. The way her eyes closed so easily made him feel strangely proud; that his presence alone was enough to make her feel safe. With that thought, he closed his eyes drifted into peaceful sleep himself.

* * *

They had woken up early the next morning and made breakfast together in silence. Kat loudly enjoying the music she had put on and Dean enjoying it silently and secretly.

At the table Kat eyed him warily over the file folder of information she was reading. Her legs were propped up on the chair next to her and she sat slumped in her chair picking at the last of her grapes. Dean sat opposite her flipping through his own newspaper; when suddenly, he felt something small make an impact with the front page of the paper. He looked up and saw nothing. Kat's face was hidden by her paper. He squinted at her warily. Before he could make his paper erect again, he was pelted in the face with a slippery grape.

"Argh!" he grunted, "Stop it," He commanded. But another missile flew in reply, this one ricocheting off his nose.

"Don't make me come over there," He warned, pointing a scolding finger in her direction.

Kat's paper had been placed on the table and she stared him down threateningly, or as threatening as a woman half, his size could be.

"I dare you," She whispered lifting her legs off the chair and readying herself to run.

His long legs were too quick for her and before she could get far enough away he'd trapped her in his arms. She squealed and struggled against his strength but it was no use. He lifted her up and sat her on the table like a small child. He stared at Kat intensely with a smirk on his face as he pressed his lips to hers.

He moved around her neck quickly, placing small kisses then retracting and moving to another spot. She laughed fully and playfully slapped his shoulders. He kissed her on the lips once more, sneaking his hands behind her back just as resounding footfalls filled the foyer.

"Seriously, what are you guys twelve? Are we going or not?" Sam chided.

Dean didn't respond to him. He simply placed a light peck on Kat's nose and walked to grab the duffle Sam had placed down for him.

She hopped off the table and followed them taking three steps for each of theirs.

"You have the information I pulled on Irish nature deities' right?" she questioned, to no response. "I've narrowed it down to three most likely's and we'll probably be able to make a real ID once you get there." She kept talking to their backs, out of overwhelming nervousness that they were walking towards potential danger.

"We got it," Sam said soothingly as he opened the door to the garage. He stepped through, leaving Kat with Dean.

"Hey," she stopped his arm, "you matter, okay?" she said as she stared into his green eyes.

He smiled kindly and kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks" was all he said.

* * *

Twelve hours later Sam and Dean arrived at the work site. A cantankerous desk sergeant had directed them to it after some prodding. It should have been a vast and intimidating forest but there were bulldozers standing guard in front of a line of shattered trees. Part of the expansive national park was being torn down to make way for office buildings and dig site of an oil refinery. There were protestors marching and waving signs that read: PAP!

Dean scrunched his face in distaste as they approached the group.

"Pap? Like a pap smear? I hate hippies." Dean growled.

"I think the politically correct term is a hipster." Corrected Sam in jest.

"I don't care what they call themselves, all I know is, I hate patchouli." Dean scoffed.

They made their way closer to the group of misfits and one particularly greasy college student stepped forward.

"Hello friends, Are you here to join the Planetwide Alliance of People?" he asked in a smoky voice. His long hair sprouted from underneath a knitted beanie. He wore overlarge jeans and a woven pullover.

"No, Park Rangers actually. Here about the recent deaths in the area." Sam said brandishing his fake badge.

"Oh well if you ask me, Mother Nature isn't too happy with humans right now," He responded

"Well, we weren't asking. We need everyone to vacate the area so we can conduct our investigation." Commanded Dean.

"No can do. We are staging a sit-in until nightfall. We cannot abandon our friends of the flora and fauna." Said the young man resolutely.

"Yeah, ok we'll just see how our superiors feel about that," Dean said quickly, pulling out his phone and nodding to Sam subtly.

The two men took their leave from the misguided youth and made their way back to the Impala.

"I couldn't listen to that anymore. We'll get a motel and come back at sundown." Dean ordered.

He flipped out his phone quickly, like a switchblade springing from its sheath.

"What's up?" Kat answered after one ring.

"We just went to the site. There's a vigil of hippies, and they might be scarier than the monster."

Kat laughed at his dismay and continued, "Speaking of, my gut is that it's the god Cernunnos. He was the horned god of nature and fertility. He was often depicted with antlers and the fact that it happened to be an elk's antler's that ran someone through can't just be a coincidence. Keep an eye out for anything that has to do with an oak tree because legend says one grows above his resting place." Something on the other side of the phone clattered, "Crap" Kat whispered.

"What are you doing?" Dean questioned.

"Oh, baking!" Kat said brightly.

"Ok, Betty Crocker anything on how to kill him, if it is him? Dean inquired.

"Nothing yet, just a weird, ambiguous riddle. But the Mystery Gang is on the case am I right?"

"Right." Dean responded and they both hung up the phone.

* * *

Two hours later, the sun had receded into the line of pine trees and Sam and Dean had found a motel.

The door creaked open with a little push. Sam stepped through first making his way directly to the bed and laying down. He wiped his hand underneath the pillow and felt something circular and course. He sat up and held in his hand a hex bag.

Dean was shutting the door as Sam raised his arm above his shoulder and cleared his throat. With sardonic, deadpanned eyes he regarded it. The texture was dry and its edges were jagged, certainly not made of cloth like a normal hex bag. It had become a new and slightly unwelcome instinct for him to reach for his phone and immediately dial Kat's number. Each time he did, however, he felt excited for her to answer.

"So there was a hex bag waiting at the motel. It's like a magic sack witches or demons use—"

"…to hex I'm gonna guess," Kat responded tiredly.

"Yup. You're going on speaker." Dean said.

Sam started to open the wrapping of what seemed like pliable twigs around the straight edges of the sphere. Once flattened it took the form of two leaves. Inside were normal ingredients; what seemed like bone and some sort of dried herb.

"Oak leaf..." Sam said.

"Well, then, the theory on who it is, is probably sound. Now you've gotta find him." Kat sighed.

"Kat, you nail down how to ice him. Sam, you help here and research local omens. I'll go back to the site and see if I can find anything that might lead me to his secret lair." Dean ordered. He dropped his bag at the door. He hadn't even dropped his keys and, therefore, headed straight back out the door.

He got into the driver's seat of the Impala and sat for a moment before igniting the engine. The life had always been so far removed from what passed as normal for him and Sam. It never occurred to Dean that it could be normal, to have a life that was in tandem with the supernatural. Kat seemed to fit so perfectly into that space. It was like it was left open for her to fill. It was no secret that he'd forever be tethered to the pain and sorrow his life brought him but there could also be happiness.

As he mused there, he smiled. Silently enjoying the alien feeling of inexplicable hopefulness. Because, in the cycle of his life, he knew death for any one of them was inevitable. But in that moment, he felt as if he could justify actually being at peace. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of feeling like everything was ok.

* * *

Three hours later Kat and Sam were still on the phone. Their conversation was sparse and filled in by white noise.

"How does it feel being hunted by the thing you're hunting?" Kat asked randomly.

"Wouldn't be the first time, but it doesn't ever stop being weird. Weirder than half the stuff we see honestly." He responded absentmindedly.

More silence, this time, there was clacking of keys on Kat's end of the phone. Sam checked the time. 10:04. Checking the site should not have taken Dean this long, but he refrained from telling Kat. He knew, by the way, she looked at Dean, she'd lose her mind with worry…but then stuff it all down and not feel it. The two of them were so similar Sam thought it might just be detrimental to have them in the same room.

"Hey, Kat? I'm gonna call Dean to tell him what I've found. Gimme a sec."

"You haven't found anything…but, fine." And she hung up.

Two rings, no answer. One more try, same thing. After all the years of doing this, the routine never got old. Sam knew it was coincidence and that Dean wasn't answering for a reason. That either because he was sleuthing, or was taken. Either way, Sam grabbed his jacket to hitch a ride to the site.

* * *

 **A/N: A little expositional but, the show must go on. Things are going to start picking up in the next few chapters as they get closer to Rowena (*spoiler* RIP). This week's return had me CRYING, anybody else? And also, any suggestions or likes/dislikes about where the story is going? As it gets more involved, it takes me a bit longer to read and reconcile the existing lore to fit the story so the chapters might not be as regular but I am going to try my hardest - Later, Kelly.**


	16. Chapter 16

Dean's eyes cracked open into very dim light. In fact it was so dark, Dean wasn't sure he'd opened his eyes until he saw what looked like a flame licking the textured walls.

A cave. He was in a cave. The cold soaked through his jeans as he tried to move his hands but was stopped by some twine binding him.

"There's no need for that Dean," a robust voice boomed.

He looked around and saw out of the corner of his eye a figure. It moved into his sight line swiftly. Once exposed by the light, Dean saw its face matched that of the hipster college student but his grease and ill-fitting clothes had vanished. Instead, he was taller, slender, like Adonis. With a pair of protruding antlers where his beanie had been earlier in the day.

"Different, I know. No hat! But where are my manners? I am Cernunnos, god of all that is natural. The wild things, if you will." He introduced.

"So you're the big man on campus, forest edition?" Dean jibed.

"It's actually a rather all-encompassing title. There's no limit to what is deemed natural, really. Fertility, for instance, is basic human instinct, i.e. 'natural'. Hunting, completely natural. Falls under the basic human instinct to survive. I am a huge fan you and you brother's work by the way. I've been watching you for a while."

"Always nice to meet a fan. But I'm gonna have to cut the meet and greet short. I don't do well with murderers."

"Murderer, please Dean you've got me wrong. Those were just to get your attention. We need to talk."

"About what?" Dean grunted in discomfort.

"Trees." A wide smile split Cernunnos's face, revealing a set of fangs.

"You're crazier than I thought," Dean said struggling against his bindings. Cernunnos glided over to Dean and kicked his fidgeting arms to stop them moving.

He moved away to face Dean on the opposite side of the cave as he spoke. "Trees are quite important in Celtic tradition, as you may know. They occupy all manner of positions. They are shelter, some are warmth, some are even made into weapons. I happen to know of a very particular weapon. One that could end Rowena for good." he explained carefully. Dean didn't let it show on his defiant face that he was surprised by Cernunnos's knowledge of Rowena.

"Shouldn't you worship her, siblings in darkness and all?" Dean spat sarcastically in response.

"Try the other way around. She may be tapping into the reserve energy of evil that the Darkness spread around the world after the Mark of Cain was immaterialized, which is what's allowing me to have…a tenth of my previous power. I do not want that witch laying waste to the natural world in the name of a vendetta."

"So if I were to believe you…this weapon would be…?" Dean trailed off. He wanted to keep the creature talking in the hopes that something would slip.

"I happen to know that the spear Lugh used to kill Balor is here in the United States and is the only thing that can kill Rowena." Cernunnos allowed smugly.

"That's it, that's your big play? You don't even have an exact location?" Dean's voice was filled with malice as he enticed the god's more wrathful attributes.

This did not sit well with him. He stood gracefully and in an instant he was hovering an inch above Dean's face, voice lowered to the decibel of a whisper

"I like you, Dean, I really do but you are incredibly obtuse sometimes. I am a mythical being; therefore, I understand we are predisposed to despise each other. I'm willing to forgo that and help you, and you spit it back in my face. Now that is not very sporting," he hissed.

* * *

Sam had been wandering the wilderness for hours. He had found nothing but caked mud and signs of a struggle at the work site in his search for Dean.

Kat had taken the news Dean was missing with a sarcastic remark and ferocious tenacity that genuinely intimidated Sam.

The mud had led them to believe that Cernunnos lived near a body of water. There were many tributaries that lead to the large lake in the center of the forest. Sam had walked along the closest one until he lost cell reception.

They were operating under the theory that like legend said there would be an oak tree. It wouldn't be hard to spot the odd one out among the expanse of pine trees but Sam was losing hope.

The way to kill Cernunnos, however, was shrouded in ambiguity. Kat again went on an educated guess that "that which is created by him, is his weakness" was literal. Sam suggested a branch of the oak tree or even an antler from the elk to act as a stake, and at that point, it was their best shot. So he had managed to steal and sharpen the antler from lock up. The absurdity of it all was highly maudlin but he didn't care. It was difficult to remember that no one was watching him. The life had lead to the development of an underlying insecurity in his actions on hunts. Most days Sam was able to acknowledge its irrelevance but it had resurfaced on this hunt.

The silence in the forest was overwhelming with Kat's presence on the phone gone. He heard only the sound of his feet crunching the leaves, the air becoming crisper as he moved inland. He couldn't shake the feeling that though there was silence there was so much life surrounding him and that something alive was watching him.

In another ten minutes, Sam saw a faint light coming from behind an odd shape. The shadow was different from those of the surrounding trees and Sam knew it must be the oak. He started to sprint toward it until his large form was felled by creeping root.

* * *

"So if my brother decides not to kill you when he gets here, why would you help us?" Dean asked cockily, even thought he had garnered a few bleeding cuts because of this attitude.

"That's a rather grandiose claim, Winchester. But, my counter is: I don't believe Rowena has the right to command living things. We all have our own modus operandi. An autonomous purpose on the earth. I will not answer to her, and neither will the rest of the living things. Yourself included. Your girlfriend, especially." Cernunnos had returned to the opposite side of the cavern but he looked over his shoulder as he added his last comment. A feisty spark found a place in his eye.

"You leave her out of this." A rage filled Dean and he pulled once again futilely at the bindings.

"There is no way to leave her out of this Dean! Her family were once warrior rulers of Ireland and Scotland-wonderful people by the way-excellent conversational partners. She is at the very center of this fight, she is integral to its victory." he said incredulously. He tapped his temple for emphasis as he spoke.

At that moment, Sam was thrown through the opening of the cave, wrapped up in thick roots that seemed to move of their own fruition.

"Sam!" Dean growled

"Oh, the matching collectors set, how quaint," cooed Cernunnos.

Sam attempted to stand and break his superhuman bonds but stumbled back to the ground. His own bones seemed to make direct contact with the hard rocks the lined the cave floor. Cernunnos backed away warily and landed a kick to Sam's gut.

"That is for rudely inviting yourself to our lovely little picnic Sam. Gentleman, I fear, I must take my leave. But before I go I have something for you, Dean." He moved with the quickness and agility of a mountain lion to Dean's side and knelt down. He opened his hand and wrapped it around Dean's throat.

Dean gritted his teeth against the pain that exploded into his body, with his throat acting as the conductor. It seemed to travel through his veins. It could only be described as fire but it was more purposeful. It was not only just the pain but a sense of longing, a direct need to do something that Dean couldn't find the word to name. Once the sensation settled there it became less a painful burn and more a bubbling warmth like effervescent water.

The god removed his hand and murmured into Dean's ear, "It seems you needed some more natural instinct. We can't have our prize stallion getting broken," and he vanished. Leaving the cave black and all of the roots of the oak tree above them retracted up through the ground. It sounded like the mast of a ship crumbling and crashing down onto the

deck. Their absence created a plethora of different sized holes in the roof. Moonlight shone through them, giving the false illusion of stars that were close enough to touch.

"Dude…" gasped Dean, "guess we're Back in Black," he joked with a wince that turned into a gasping laugh.

* * *

Kat had been unable to sleep all night. She tried picking at her guitar which now leaned abandoned against a chair.

She'd managed to get through the organizational stage of her compendium and had drafted an introduction. She usually enjoyed thinking, solving puzzles, getting to the truth of riddles. Language provided Kat with the ability to construct revelations. It was an adventure. Albeit a much safer one than the track, she was currently on.

She paced now across the floor of the antique computer room, not even attempting to hide her anxieties in activities.

A flutter behind her told Kat, Cas had appeared. She turned and smiled at him broadly.

"Come to join my party?" she joked.

Cas scrutinized her. Her hair was lacking its usual volume and hung like limp noodles in its ponytail. Her full brows seemed to be permanently furrowed. This sight and her words conflicted in his mind. "This does not seem jovial at all," he said flatly.

"That's so kind of you to point out." Kat's words bit at the tension that was radiating from her. "Let's go ahead and make it 'jovial'. Have you ever been drunk my celestial friend?" The second statement amended her original attitude, as a smirk spread across her face.

"Many have tried," He responded curtly.

"Well tonight, I will succeed." She rushed forward and grabbed his hand.

* * *

Sam and Dean arrived at the bunker in the wee hours of the morning. The threat that Cernunnos was still lurking around loomed over them and drove them towards home. He had promised Dean that the killing would stop because he had achieved his purpose, whatever that actually was. Dean had been forced to take him at his word. They called Jody to tell her to call them with any news from her sheriff friend in the area as a precaution.

It felt like somewhat of a loss but in the grand scheme of things Cernunnos's intel might save infinitely more lives than he'd taken.

"Kat?" Dean called repeatedly as he dropped his bag at the door and began looking around for her. It occurred to Dean that he had never had someone to come home to after a hunt, the prospect of this made him eager to see Kat. For his hands to wrap around her face and kiss her. "Kat?" he called again, driven by the relentless desire to be near her. She didn't answer. He saw her papers strewn around on the table and her discarded guitar.

A slight panic rose in him and he called out a little louder this time, "Cas?"

Sam moseyed into the room and said, "No sign of her. She probably went for a drive or something."

Dean said once again, even louder, " _Cas?_ " This time, he was greeted by a flutter, and…a hiccup.

Kat stood swaying slightly in her spot and Cas stood straight as ever but with a stupid grin on his face. Sam burst out laughing at the sight of the pair of them. Dean crossed his arms like a father admonishing his mischievous children who tried not to smile as he did it.

"I think I got Cas buzzed. Lots of shots…" Kat seemed to think that was an appropriate recap of their outing.

"Well, Castiel how do you feel…?" prodded Dean.

"Jovial," he replied simply. Kat smiled wider and her eyes became absurdly excited. She pointed at Cas clumsily.

"I'm gonna take that as a win." She laughed. "Oh, it's wonderful to see you alive, Winchester," She added, her voice dripping deliberately with sarcasm.

She made her way over to the crumpled papers and started pushing them haphazardly into a trash bin. She glared at him quickly and noticed a tomato red burn creeping out from under his collar.

"What the hell is that?" she demanded.

"What?" he said in a tone that was too innocent

"Don't play coy with me Dean, your neck," Kat said more forcefully.

"Oh nothing just a little light choking…bit of bondage," Dean said returning her sarcastic tone from before.

"That is so not funny. Let me see it."

It took twenty minutes of Kat being fended off by Dean who's reflexes were almost cat-like compared to hers drunk, for Kat to actually get him to sit and let her bandage the burn on his neck.

Sam was eying them bemusedly. He found it hilarious that Dean was actually letting Kat treat the burn like it should be treated, not just some water splashed on it and dried with a rough bandana.

"I feel like this is the 1950's and you're like, a beat cop who fights gang crime. As I, the housewife sit and wait for your return. This is so backpedaling feminism. I'm coming on the next hunt."

"Sure you are." Dean evaded.

"I'm, like, so tough." Kat stuttered.

"Mhmm."

"So teach me, then."

"I will" offered Sam, just to upset Dean who glared at him from around Kat.

"Thank you, Sam. In return, I will….teach you…" she searched.

"How to play guitar" offered Cas.

"I think you should play right now, Kat." pitched Dean in an attempt o get her to stop poking at the raw skin of his neck. He gestured his hand out in a grand sweeping motion and added, "By all means maestro."

* * *

The four of them shared a moment in time where everything beyond the bunker dissolved. Kat made a fool of herself playing guitar, mixing up chords in her drunkenness. As Sam and Dean drank more, they hummed along in the wrong key. They shared stories of old hunts, and Kat had told them about growing up in piano bars and then the firehouse, and the time she met Billy Joel. She learned of the time Dean took Cas to a strip club and he'd offended the stripper. They laughed fully and for a long time.

Eventually, Cas drifted off to wherever he went when he wasn't with the boys, and Sam started falling asleep in his seat. Kat had woken him up with some playful slaps on his face and sent him to bed.

Dean stayed. He sat across from her and watched her return to the chair opposite. He thought it was the strangest thing that she was so small should curl up in the wooden chair and made it seem comfortable.

To fill the silence she plucked out a tune absentmindedly. Kat looked up at him eyes round with sadness. Her mercurial mood startled Dean.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately.

"Nothing. Well, nothing you did, really," she said, almost embarrassed that she'd been caught. It only took her a moment to realize she couldn't avoid his question. She took a deep breath. "

I guess I've just been contemplating mortality lately. I don't like, have friends or relationships, really and I'm out of my depth. It's just my own weird issues, don't worry about it."

"Well, I do worry about it because I worry about you. All the damn time." Dean admitted.

"That's all well and good but I need you to worry about yourself too. I need you to value your own life as highly as I do. Because that's what love is."

"Woah," muttered Dean.

"Batten down the hatches folks, cuz I went there," she waved her hands loosely for emphasis. "Can you blame me? You could've died yesterday and it's supposed to be no big deal?"

"And you couldn't have? When you, I don't know…went after the caldron and burned your house down. Instead of waiting for Sam and me? Don't try to play that hand. You'll lose. This life is dangerous Kat. I can't promise you anything about safety. Yours or mine." Dean blurted out.

"Doesn't that just mean how I feel about you is irrelevant? If it can just end at the drop of a hat?" Kat attacked.

"No, it means we need to enjoy it while we can." he parried.

"Ever the pessimist..." she laughed, "Can't you just lie to me for posterities sake?"

"Well, lying is something I'm very, very good at." He laughed and took a swig of his last and probably twentieth beer of the night. Dean suddenly felt like Kat was so far away from him and all he wanted to do was be near her. "Come here," he said.

She did; slowly padding her bare feet across the wood floor. The sweatpants she'd changed into dragged along under the heels. When she reached the other side of the huge table she stood in front of him, slouched and looking slightly defeated. He reached for her hand gently and intertwined his fingers in hers, all the while pulling her into him. She was so small her hips fit between his thighs in the chair and hers hung over his right leg. She leaned her shoulder into his stomach and her head on his chest. Letting their breathing sync up like a string orchestra. It reverberated between them deep and strong. The sound unified them and Dean gently kissed her forehead.

"You wanna do something normal tomorrow?" he asked.

"Like stay in bed all day and nurse the monstrous hangover I'm going to have?" she replied.

"Exactly like that," he agreed.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello friends! I got so much work done during Blizzard Jonas so expect more regular updates! The song that inspired me for the latter half of this chapter is Bob Dylan's Times They Are A-Changing, if you're interested. Poor Dean and Kat are going to get into the thick of it in the next few chapters, so stay tuned. Kelly.**


	17. Chapter 17

"False. The Beatles are the most impactful musical group of all time but if you break it down decade I'll allow that Led Zeppelin was just as influential in the 70's as The Beatles were during their height in the 60's." Kat said pointedly over breakfast.

Sam watched them both from a few seats down. Like a bird on a wire, he noticed the things that Kat and Dean were subconscious to. Over the last month, he had noticed that they gravitated towards each other once one of them entered a room. Their relationship was laid out in front of him like legos a collector intended to super glue together.

They argued-mostly about music- and Sam saw that Dean allowed Kat to have an opinion about things he'd shut Sam down on when they were growing up. He was patient with her; kind. His brother's transformation was one that Sam knew was bound to happen sooner or later. There had been many times Sam saw in Dean what he could not see in himself. It was in those times that Sam felt privileged to know his brother.

After a few more minutes, Kat cleared her place and made her farewells for work at the library.

Once the brothers were alone Sam spoke, "Dude you should do something for her."

"What?" Dean scoffed.

"Like get her a gift or something. She's made you…respectable. I'd say she deserves it," explained Sam.

"Sam…what do you know about functioning relationships?" Dean quipped defensively, but not unkindly.

"I know that with you and other girls, I've only seen the end. This I've seen from the start and it's different. So… a little word of advice. Girls like presents." He said with finality.

As Sam stood and walked away Dean called out, "Dude, I know what girls like! I'm the older brother. You don't get to give _me_ advice."

Sam didn't respond but left Dean sitting staring perplexedly at his cup of coffee.

* * *

The library as it turned out had been the perfect release for Kat. It had done as she intended and given her a routine. Sam and Dean had begun hunting down Lugh's spear but most of the hunts were dead ends and in that time, Kat had something easy to occupy her.

The consistent letdowns didn't matter, though because they each had one another to fall back on. The life of the supernatural had morphed with Kat's mundane. She felt like she had a home with them and her life had assumed a structure. An amorphous one, but it had stability.

She took off her coat and placed it on the rack behind the circulation desk, and went over to April and Ruth, whom she was pleased to now call friends.

"How was your weekend trip ladies?" she asked as she signed into her computer.

"Awesome. Relaxing if you can believe it. We missed you, though." April said cheerfully.

"Yeah, sorry I couldn't make it," Kat lied. In reality, she and Cas had spent the weekend playing Scrabble while Sam and Dean went to hunter's shops in two states looking for the spear.

"Well April has pictures of the booths and comic stuff we saw, and I have pictures of the guys who's numbers I got," said Ruth proudly.

"Well, I'd absolutely like to see both," laughed Kat, mimicking Ruth's tone.

It was a quiet day so they managed to go through most of the comic expo photos. April started with the folder of voice actors they'd met, and then jumped to artists with their work on display. Now they had moved to the props and replicas.

It was a photo of a large man with his hair tied up in a rubber-banded bun. And around him was an array of vintage looking guns and knives. It should have been very commonplace; April was going on about the items on the table in front of him but Kat's attention was drawn to the makeshift wall behind him.

There were five types of lances, ranging across different periods. But one stood out. It had ornate patterning on the hilt and Kat couldn't quite make it out but one of them looked familiar. She couldn't place it but she was sure she'd seen it in her readings.

Her blood pressure rose slightly in excitement. If it _was_ the real spear it was well taken care of. The metal that would've been made of iron or the like that the period was gleaming in the photo. In fact, it was the shiniest one on the rack. It wasn't jagged but perfectly sleek and rounded to a razor sharp tip.

"Hey, um, April. Could you email me this picture? My friend has been looking for knives like these, he's kind of a fanatic." Kat asked.

"Sure!" April began typing.

"Where did you say this guy's shop was again?" pressed Kat.

"Tucson, Arizona," answered Ruth, who was picking at her nails looking a little bored.

Kat heard her phone ping, signaling an email and said, "I'm just gonna send this to him. Be right back," Kat excused.

She quickly punched in Sam's email, sent him the picture and then called Dean.

"Hey, what's up? You ok?" he asked quickly alarmed by her calling during work.

"Is that Katherine?" she heard in the background, "Tell her I said aposiopesis was cheating and I would like a rematch."

"Did you get that?" asked Dean amused

"Yes, but I—"Kat started.

"Where do you even come up with this stuff? What's aposio-pocalypse?" he interrupted.

"It's when you're interrupted in the middle of a sentence and are unable or unwilling to finish it…like right now," Kat said exasperatedly.

"Well that's ironic," he snorted, "What's up though?"

"Don't leave for Montana yet. I think I found the spear. I sent Sam a picture."

"Are you serious?" Dean said in disbelief.

Kat looked around quickly and saw no one but an old woman making her way up the ramp into the library.

"Yeah. So check it out and I'll fake sick to come home early. It's not like anyone cares."

"Yeah captain badass, play hooky." Dean insisted playfully.

Triggered by Dean's nickname for her, Kat remembered back to the latest lesson she'd had in knife fighting where she'd managed to take Sam by surprise and hold him at the throat. It meant a lot to Kat that he hadn't backed down on his offer he made the night they got back from Wyoming. In the month that had gone by she was proud of the progress she was making. Sam reassured her that she was improving. Honestly, it was more a personal triumph that she was diligent about it; not mastery of the skill.

Kat was barely passable for a fighter on her best day. Though she was armed with a steely determination she couldn't fool herself into thinking she had a killer instinct.

* * *

In the time it took for Kat to make a clean get away from work, Sam had done extensive research on the lance in question. So much of his hunch was a shot in the dark. He'd been able to get buyers records dating back to the early nineteenth century but the trail stopped in 1806. It had only been bought by people of Scots-Irish descent, but that could be a coincidence. He had to tell himself repeatedly that not much in their line of work actually was.

Dean, on the other hand, had been working on the Impala. He'd come in and out covered in oil for the occasional beer and Sam thought he'd heard some clanking metal and the sound of a soldering iron at work.

He shook his head in his brother's direction not even bothering to question what he was doing, and heard the heavy metal door at the top of the stairs unlock and swing open.

Kat shuffled inside and pushed all of her weight on it, to close it again.

"Where's your brother? I stopped and got lunch on my way home. Did you find anything?" she listed in rapid fire.

"He's in the garage, thank you, and yes and no." he said in response to her grouping of questions.

"I'll get him." She offered and made her way into the garage.

* * *

They huddled around Sam's computer as he opened the file Kat had sent him. He zoomed and altered the resolution on the photo until the spear was the only image on the screen.

"Kat, I'm telling you, that hieroglyph thing looks like your birthmark." Dean insisted.

"The one under my sternum tattoo?" she asked, trying to envision the original birthmark.

"Yeah, that's gotta mean something," Dean insisted.

"Yeah, it means Kat's gotta come with us when we get it. If it's just sitting in a comic shop, it can't be difficult. It's been a month since Jackson, Dean and it's just sitting there. If Rowena's looking for it, she hasn't found it either."

"We'll get in and out. Stealthily…like Mission Impossible," Kat said in a low, husky voice.

Dean stared at her emotionlessly but still enjoying her joke. "You're coming, okay? But you have to do everything we say, no questions asked," Dean ordered as he put on the face that said serious business.

"Contrary to popular belief, I am an excellent rule follower," Kat said putting her right hand over her heart and raising her left.

Dean smiled unabashedly at her innocent strength and its combination with her humor. What Sam had said that morning struck a chord. He'd spent the day in the garage to maintain some of his hyper-masculine sense of dignity but he did do something for Kat. And it felt like his chest would explode if he didn't get to share it with her.

"Let's leave tomorrow, I'm pretty beat," lied Sam easily. It was simple to read the look on Dean's face and he felt compelled to support his brother going out on a ledge.

"Yeah I have something to do tonight anyway," Dean added casually.

"What is with this super evasive vibe happening…? I've known you guys for long enough that I know something's up," Kat said lightheartedly. Dean took two steps to cross behind Sam's back to her. He cupped her chin and quickly kissed her forehead. Kat felt the skin that made contact with his lips tingle and she leaned into him, a ghost of a smile creasing her cheeks.

"You're coming with me," Dean said simply walking away from her.

She spun around fast to watch him walk away, throwing up her arms in curiosity. "Where are we going?" she called after him.

* * *

They had been in the car for over an hour and Kat hadn't stopped talking about the spear. She ran circles around herself conversationally partially because she was nervous about the case itself. She also felt very strange allowing herself to be at Dean's will.

He hadn't told her where they were going and as they got further and further from the bunker she felt more out of control. It wasn't a negative feeling. There was no anxiety that accompanied it, but she was slightly disappointed in herself that she hadn't thought to do something for Dean.

She fell silent for a moment. "I mean what does this crazy bitch want with me really? I am so bland. I'm—I'm like discussing the weather with your great aunt who lives in Minnesota, it's boring. I am never who anybody wants." Kat burst out with hopeless energy.

"Well, you're who I want. So deal." Dean said nonchalantly. He pursed his lips at her in disappointment. "Now, let's _not_ talk about the witch who has you wrapped up in some crazy plan for world domination. It's against the rules."

"The rules of what?" whined Kat defiantly.

"Rules of my baby. No witch talk in the Impala," Dean commanded, steeling himself against the steering wheel.

"Oh well, this is awkward. I'm...only here to talk about the occult," Kat said wryly as she let a sideways smile sneak onto her face.

* * *

Dean looked at Kat as he saw their destination rise up out of the distance.

"You love old movies. So I thought, what better way to watch one than in a drive in. Tonight this theater just so happens to be playing, The Maltese Falcon," Dean revealed.

Kat's jaw dropped as she craned her neck out the window to get a glimpse at the lights of the screen that were appearing down the stretch of road.

"That not only is my favorite Humphrey Bogart movie but it perfectly fits our current situation," Kat squealed decisively.

"Is that so?" Dean peeked at her as he ran his hands over the wheel to pull into the lot.

"Yes! Two private investigators and a femme fatale investigate the disappearance of a priceless artifact." Kat said in a sharp, deep voice that mimicked those of the 1940's, with a flair of false dramatics. "I could eat the irony of it with a spoon straight from the carton," she finished.

"Well, I know how much you love irony. Come on, that's why I chose it," Dean concocted.

"Oh, please, you had no idea," chided Kat.

"OK, I had no idea," he corroborated, "But it's the thought that counts."

Kat practically jumped up and down as they bought a ticket and parked the car in the middle of the lot. There were only a few others there. When the Impala roared into its spot a few heads turned at its gleaming magnificence. The moonlight radiated off it like a phosphorescent beacon. It's sturdy, retro body fit perfectly into the nostalgic setting. It was like Kat and Dean were isolated in its cab as they traveled back through time.

She slid across the bench seating in the front of the car. Crossed her legs Indian style and fiddled with the radio as it tuned to the station that played the movie's audio. She sat straight up peering through the windshield like a child staring at the Christmas displays on Fifth Avenue. Dean laid his hand across the back of the seat. It reached just past Kat's shoulders. He slouched down and leaned into Kat's side. Less interested in the movie and more in her reaction he watched her intently. Each flicker of her face; in joy, satisfaction and excitement made minuscule changes in her expression but infinite changes in the way Dean knew her. The Kat he knew changed each day they had spent together. He would never stop being in awe of her magnitude. It was humbling, to a man who had overcome so much, to be overcome by her.

"I always wished that my life was like this."

"What do you mean?"

"Like a film noir. Something so full of intrigue, but also crisp and clean. Like, one look in his office and suddenly Spade and O'Shaunessy feel something for each other? It romanticizes something that's almost impossible. But some way, these two people manage to beat the odds." Kat theorized out loud without taking her eyes off the screen.

Dean watched for a moment as the lead actors fought dramatically in a series of single shots of them on screen. He absentmindedly thought it was strange for the director to shoot a love scene but not have the actors share the frame.

"I got you something else," started Dean.

"You are just outdoing yourself today," Kat said incredulously as she allowed her eyes to flicker from the screen.

"Yeah, I know, I'm practically a saint."

Dean reached in his pocket and closed his fingers around a delicate, long silver chain. Finally, at the end, a key popped out of the denim.

It was very plain. Its metal was as shiny as the chain but it lacked the indentations on normal keys. It was simply a silhouette.

"It's the key to the Impala. I mean, it doesn't work but it matches the actual one. This car…it was my home for a long time. I held onto it because it reminded me of my dad I guess, hell I'm the one who convinced him to buy it in the first place—" he stuttered.

"When Cas sent you back to 1973, you mean?" Kat asked inquisitively.

"Yeah, back when he was just another douche angel. But that's kind of the point. This car has been through it all and everyone in my life was in some way connected to it, and me, I guess. So..I thought, I thought that I'd give this to you, so you could have a part of it too."

Kat beamed wider than he'd ever seen. So wide, that her dimples became cavernous ridges along her cheeks.

"That's a wonderful thought." She said in response. She reached for the necklace hesitantly and carefully placed it around her neck. Rather than let it fall over her thin sweater she placed it underneath, directly against her skin.

"I made it from some silver I had in the bunker," Dean averted casually.

"Oh, so it's super practical as well. In a tight spot, I could rip open a werewolf's jugular," Kat said derisively.

"Hey, always gotta be prepared." Dean joked in response.

Kat returned her eyes to the screen. "So, fun fact, the director of this movie said that Sam Spade—Humphrey Bogart's character—was meant to have no original, like a the guy everyone wishes they were but never actually gets there," she began. "You're kind of like him," she paused and took a breath, "There's no one quite like you Dean Winchester."

"Come on, I can't top that. How do you come up with this stuff?" Dean cried in frustration.

"No, no, no, stop! I didn't mean to make it too maudlin!" said Kat uncrossing her legs and moving them underneath her. She sat on her knees and faced Dean. She tried to grab his face and kiss him apologetically but he made a show of evading her, so she kissed wherever she could find.

Through her giggles, she managed to say, "This was perfect."

* * *

 **A/N: So, are there any thoughts circulating out there? How do the readers feel about longer chapters? We're getting into the thick of things so do we feel like more description is needed? A big thank you to those out there that are reading, it means a tremendous amount to me, I'd love it if you guys could find it in yourself to leave a comment! I'd love to hear what you have to say. -Kelly**


	18. Chapter 18

The next morning the Impala was roaring down a densely populated highway. It had been 10 hours with only two pit stops and Kat was climbing the walls. She had buried herself in writing, making scribbles in a composition notebook. It hadn't surprised Sam and Dean how easily she took to her pet project; how well, Kat did compiling information was just a testament to her intelligence.

How easily she discovered new things about the supernatural was a different story. With each word she seemed to uncover an ocean of information about the truth behind the magic of the legends, they were hunting. The first few chapters were essentially biography augmented with an opinion. Kat's real emotion about the events littered the pages and reading it was like reading a page of her brain. One that she didn't openly talk about.

In this moment, she was more than halfway done and was finishing an extensive chapter on warding. Silently she celebrated finally translating an ancient sigil. It had taken her a few days to dig up enough information to substantiate her theory that, if passed through, it would expel the evil energy or the force that supplemented it, from whoever was practicing it. _Useful_ , she mused to herself.

Even after all of that, she couldn't find the willpower to entertain herself for the remaining five hours of their trip.

"Are—" Kat began.

"If you say 'are we there yet' I will lose it so help me god," threatened Dean.

"I don't do well on road trips," Kat said by way of explanation.

Dean looked around seeming to be searching for something to occupy her. His eyes rested on Sam's sleeping form slumped on the window. A devious grin appeared on his face and before Kat could open her mouth to protest, Dean swerved the wheel hard to the empty lane to the left and screamed at the top of his lungs.

Sam's eyes flew open and he jumped so high he hit his head on the roof of the car. Simultaneously he reached for the glove compartment, where he'd stored his gun. He got it open then realized that Dean was cackling with laughter and Kat—though she tried to restrain herself—was following suit.

"That is NOT funny, Dean," Sam said angrily settling himself down in the seat.

"Oh, it's ok Sammy, you just rest your little head," coddled Dean.

"No, I don't trust you anymore. Kat should drive," Sam retorted begrudgingly.

Dean looked affronted and tightened his hands on the wheel, falling silent.

To save him from having to deny her the driver's seat Kat said, "You don't want me driving. I didn't learn until my first semester of college."

"Seriously?" asked Sam turning to face her.

"Yeah, dude, I'm from Brooklyn there wasn't any need. I went away for school at Chapel Hill. So that's when one of my friends taught me. That's why my license is from North Carolina." She explained.

"Hmm. Learn something new every day with you," Dean mused.

"Since we're sharing, my favorite TV show is Battlestar Galactica," Kat shrugged.

"Oh, come on, Battlestar?! You couldn't have at least gone for Deep Space Nine or something?" Dean whined.

"I will not defend myself to you, Winchester," said Kat resolutely crossing her arms.

* * *

Kat had closed her eyes and awoke in darkness. What light there was disillusioned like it was flowing through a crystal, sending blurry fragments around the room. Suddenly, she felt something rigid clasped in her hands. After a moment, she felt compelled to look at them.

The spear shone brightly of its own accord, surrounded by a pale blue fog. She wondered how she came to be holding it and where exactly she was. The fact that she was dreaming was obvious. What Kat questioned was if it was and original or recurring. Sometimes she dreamed of things that had happened in her life while she was awake. Like, a trip to the grocery store except little things had changed, to show her that she was in fact dreaming. Like, the clerk was transformed into a Pablo Picasso-looking cartoon.

What confused her about this particular one, was that there was no absurdity. The spear, maybe, but she had adopted that as something of a normality.

Kat looked up and a man had appeared in the few seconds she had been looking down. She hadn't heard anyone approach. Maybe she had been looking down for far longer than she thought. Her head began to feel woozy and she squinted at him in confusion.

Maybe it was his wildly curly hair or his green eyes but there was something incredibly recognizable about the man. She felt as if she knew him as well as she could know anybody. _'The human mind is unable to create original faces'_ she thought, ' _maybe I saw him on the street somewhere? Or, had a class with him in her undergrad?' A second hung between her thoughts and when he spoke._

"You have to do it for me," he said in a strong, deep voice. It did not seem to belong to any human body because it felt like it had been broken down into sound waves that vibrated around the empty room they were standing at the center of.

"Do what?" Kat asked as she took a step towards him. He backed away just as quickly, never taking his eyes off of her.

"You'll know when it's time," He reassured, not answering her question.

Kat instantly knew to give up her current line of questioning. "Who are you?" she asked instead.

"Someone you will never know," he said wistfully. There was a hint of a kind smile on his face as he disintegrated into nothing in front of Kat's eyes.

Just as he was truly gone she felt a ripping pain flow like a current her chest. She looked down in panic and saw the spear was no longer in her hands but protruding directly between her breasts. Burgundy blood wept from the hole in her chest making the front of her body slick.

She opened her mouth to scream when she felt two disembodied hands shaking her shoulders gently.

Dean was standing next to the open back right door of the Impala. His touch brought her back to the land of the living and she jumped at the difference in the scenery.

"Woah, you good? Bad trip?" he asked warily.

"You have no idea. Just had the freakiest dream. Some dude was like 'this task was appointed to you Frodo Baggins' and disappeared," she joked, running her hands through her hair to wake herself up.

"Do I need to beat him up?" huffed Dean as he bent down to offer a hand and pull her out of the car.

Kat took it and looked around. They were in a roadside motel parking lot. It was sticky, and arid all at once. Kat allowed Dean to pull her into his chest and wrap his arms around her waist, clasping them in the back. He kissed her on the forehead soft and quick, as per usual.

"So I guess we're here?" Kat asked casually, still in his arms.

"Yup. Now the real fun begins." Dean sighed

* * *

"So we're just going to walk in?" asked Kat quizzically.

"Yes, you're going to be a very clumsy, very giggly, girl. Sam and I will get it while you distract Jabba the Hutt," said Dean impatiently.

Kat looked in Dean's sightline and frowned in pity. Through the glass she saw a very large man, reading a collection of Flash comics.

"That's not nice," Kat responded that way without knowing that Dean knew exactly why; that over their time together he'd seen that she was unfailingly kind, even though she pretended not to be. He was avaricious of the empathy that she could call up at any moment.

"Ok, fine, I'm sure he's a wonderful person. He doesn't deserve to get wrapped up in this, which is why you're going to have to distract him," Sam said hurriedly. He opened his door to the Impala and got out, straightening his light shirt.

Pushing her nervous thoughts aside she followed suit, making a beeline for the front door. It swung open, ringing a bell and immediately pretended to trip over own feet, in the process toppling a whole rack of books.

After about twenty minutes of Kat apologizing profusely, tripping again, this time falling strategically into the timid man's arms, she watched Sam and Dean exit the store. Dean held the arm opposite to her very straight and close to his side like he'd shoved half the spear up his sleeve.

"I'm so, so sorry, again sir." Kat gushed as she backed way and spun around into the swinging door.

She rounded the corner and jogged to the Impala. Sam was looking down, examining the spear. It was about as tall as Kat, the shaft was covered in ornate carvings that looked like sigils. As she got closer Kat thought she could make out some of the lettering used in ancient Gaelic.

Dean saw her approach and started a slow, sarcastic, applause. Kat grinned broadly. It was amazing to her how safe and happy she felt just looking at Dean. Her chest was filled with warmth and a blush crept up her cheeks.

Once she was 5 feet from the boys she threw out her arms to their full length and bowed grandiosely.

"Thank you, thank you," Kat crooned jokingly.

Dean raised his pitch an octave and spoke wispily, imitating her. "Oh, thank goodness you were there to catch me!"

"Is that jealousy I detect Winchester?" Kat retorted as she hiked up her shorts, with a small hop as she hoisted. Dean smiled at the way she was able to make an ungracious mannerism, charming.

"Not a chance," he replied just as quickly.

A sleek black car pulled into the empty lot of the shopping center and Kat looked over her shoulder to watch it enter. It was coming fast and before she knew it, it had pulled into a spot three down from the Impala.

Dean subconsciously and protectively stepped in halfway in front of Kat, shielding her, but not enough so she couldn't see.

An old woman stepped out from the driver's side. Curiously Kat cocked her head to the side. Sam reached for the gun tucked in the back of his jeans instinctively.

Kat gasped, and suddenly she knew why she had studied the woman so closely.

"That hag was in Kansas yesterday...at the library. It's no coincidence she's here," she said quickly as two more doors opened revealing three more bodies. They were younger, agiler males and they all stared at the trio.

"Demons?" Sam asked. The creature's eyes flashed black and they began to run.

"Demons," confirmed Dean who, like a warrior, thrust Kat completely behind him and brandished Ruby's knife.

The three males occupied Sam and Dean. All Kat could see was the flash of bodies being tossed around in her periphery. The old woman headed directly for her, pure malice in her gaze.

Dean threw one of them to the ground. It attempted to stand relying on one leg to force it upward. Dean kicked it out. The sickening crunch of bone and a fierce howl of pain followed it.

The woman stood before Kat, building up tension and waiting to strike. Kat knew she couldn't rely on Sam or Dean and that her fighting skills were minimal. She searched frantically and saw the spear discarded on the gravel in the confusion.

In the tumult of chaos around her and using the kicked up dust as cover she baseball slid across it, feeling the sharp sting of skin peeling off her kneecaps. She grabbed the spear just in time to spin and face the demon who was mere inches from her. She shoved the end of Lugh's spear into the gravel, so that it pointed upwards like palisade guarding Kat.

The demon didn't have the time to stop. She flailed her arms in the vain attempt to sway her course. Her balled fist made contact with Kat's forehead before she impaled herself on the lance. It was taking all of Kat's strength to hold it erect as the demon's orifices flickered orange to yellow and back again. Finally, she slumped and drooped all of her weight onto the spear forcing Kat down with it.

Kat looked up and was met with a trickle of blood from her forehead in her right eye. With her left she saw Sam overthrow one demon. Dean held his opponent down with his forearm. Without even looking he tossed Sam the demon blade and Sam caught it deftly. He thrust it upward, from navel to throat. Removing it, he threw it back to Dean who rammed it into his demon's exposed chest.

Kat marveled momentarily at how well the two men worked together. Their movement was timed like the ticking of a clock, wordlessly functioning on a beat in harmony. Her admiration was interrupted by a sharp pain in her chest. It grew steadily and she squirmed trying to let go of the spear to grab at it, at a loss of anything else to do.

Her hand wouldn't budge but seemed glued to the shaft by a faint aura of blue, not unlike the one from her dream.

"Ow, ow, ow," she cried helplessly. She stumbled to her feet then, removing the blade from the demon's chest. The grotesque image would have repulsed her, were it not for the pounding in her veins of some force flowing from her wrist to her heart.

Dean was immediately at her side, attempting to guide her to lean against the Impala. Kat resisted, making it there herself.

"Let it go, drop it," Dean seemed to say. Kat saw double and her vision became blurry as the pain climaxed. She focused all of her energy towards her hand, willing it to open. Finally, it did, and relief flooded through Kat like water breaking through a crumbling dam.

She caught her breath for a few seconds, bending slightly and resting her hands on her knees, backside against the rim of the car.

"What the hell was that?" Sam sighed incredulously.

"I have no freakin' idea. But we've gotta get out of here." Replied Kat dryly looking at the mess of corpses that lay out in front of them. "I probably shouldn't touch that thing again," she said as she pointed with repugnance at the spear which sat inanimately taunting her.

"Get in the car. I'll get it," Dean said his voice full of distrust. Before she left his side, he grabbed her chin and lovingly wiped the blood from the cut at her hairline the demon's fist had made.

* * *

The three of them discussed the day's events in spurts. They would voice a theory, then fall silent and think on it. The one fact they did agree on was that sleep and alcohol were a necessity, not entirely in that order.

They took an alternate route home, afraid of being followed. Once they reached Colorado, they pulled into the first motel they saw. It sat, serendipitously enough, next to a ramshackle bar.

It was a shining beacon of comfort in an otherwise dark day, it drew them in. Kat offered to set up the wardings and test out the new theories she explored.

After she had decked out the room in squiggles and slashes they dragged their feet to the bar.

It was dank, dark, and stereotypical. The boys split and went to their usual spots, leaving Kat feeling like somewhat of an outsider.

Dean bought the first round and Sam snagged a pool table.

"You play?" he asked, flipping the cue around his wrist.

"I am actually terrible at pool," she admitted.

"So that means you're playing with me," stated Dean as he approached with a tray of shots. "Jameson, just for you," he winked at Kat.

"What are the stakes?" she said dangerously as she downed one shot, and then another.

Dean eyed her impressed and doubled her intake.

Sam spotted the barback assembling a microphone and looked at the chalkboard to its left. It read: _Karaoke Night_. "Loser sings," he stated.

"Wha—" started Dean but then his eyes landed on the same sight. "You're on," he bet confidently.

* * *

They had lost and Dean was backed into a corner. Kat had agreed to sing too because it was really her fault they had lost at all.

Dean was too proud to decline the wager and made his way to the corner with the microphone. He made his selection and the first notes rang out, tinny, from the speaker.

" _When the lights, go down, on the city…"_ he bellowed from across the room.

Kat was rightfully drunk. Drunker than she'd been in a long time. "Journey! Good stuff!" she teased from her seat. Dean held out his beer to her, mimicking a toast, but never stopped grumbling along with the song, allowing his cockiness to mask how truly embarrassed he was.

"Sam, you need to score with that bartender. She's been giving you rounds for free. She totally checks out your ass as you walk away. She's totally objectifying you, how do you feel about that?" Kat teased sarcastically, slightly swaying in her seat.

Sam looked at her disbelieving, but his own drunkenness got the better of him and he shrugged. Grinning he peeked over his shoulder. The bartender saw and waved coyly.

"Go get 'em, tiger," Kat pressed.

He had stood but as Kat spoke he turned back abruptly, "I'm not Spiderman."

"I am sorry to say, Sam, you would absolutely be Peter Parker," Kat said apologetically. She scooted him along with her hands.

As he left, Dean returned. Kat didn't say a word to him as she lopsidedly walked to where the microphone sat.

" _You might have heard I run with a dangerous crowd…"_ Kat sang, clear and passionate. Dean clapped his hands once and laughed at her choice of Only The Good Die Young. "Classic karaoke choice. I like the way you think Tavares!"

Kat took this as a prompt to act as ridiculously as possible. She pursed her lips and swung the microphone cord around like a rocker and puckered her lips at him.

By the time she had gotten to the second chorus, her eye was caught by Sam leaning his entire chest over the bar and kissing the bartender who simultaneously grasped behind her for the last call bell. Kat dropped the mic and gasped. Abandoning her song, she sprinted to Dean who saw her line of sight and his jaw dropped open.

In seconds, she had grasped his hand and pulled him out of the bar into the cooler Colorado night.

The stars shone brightly over them because of the lack of light around them. The last few stragglers stumbled through the bar doors and made their way down the dark road. Kat still held Dean's hand and she tightened her grip, pulling him closer.

Their lips met boldly. Uninhibited Kat reached for Dean's chest, forcing him backward until they had reached their hotel door.

Once there, Dean spun around, placing Kat against the door, a lamb for slaughter.

The door opened somehow, but neither of them was concerned with anything but each other.

The darkness of the room swallowed them whole.


	19. Chapter 19

Dean awoke groggily. He was hot. Boiling hot; like his core was a volcano about to erupt.

 _Still drunk?_ He thought to himself. His mind seemed to clear, though. He took in his surroundings too sharply to be intoxicated. The ramifications of that realization made him feel inadequate. _I'm actually hungover…_ he mused.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and Kat stirred. He carefully brushed her boisterous curls back from her face. She inhaled at his touch and exhaled when he removed his hand. He sat there contentedly for a moment. The feeling of safety was unusual to Dean. He felt safe to an extent, in the bunker because it was a fortress but never had he felt safe in the arms of another person. No matter how small and untrained she was, Kat managed to be an anchor to him; tethering him to humanity.

He was reminded of their first encounter. In a moment when he thought he'd never see her again and, vice versa, and he couldn't help but feel like he would. Later, when she had burned down all her worldly possessions and counted on him, she'd told him he would find his 'wholeness'. In his evasive way, he believed he had, with her.

Avoiding anyone else realizing that fact was paramount. In a way he thought Kat felt the same. He could love her fully behind warded walls but in the light of day he—and Kat too, really—remained aloof.

This mental drudgery called for hydration. As much as Dean wished in this moment it was more alcohol, he left the room and went to the vending machine for frigid water. He reached for the knob but not before his eyes fell on the composition notebook Kat had been hard at work on detailing everything she could about the hunt for Rowena and all that she encountered there. He flipped open the first page. In Kat's light but nearly perfect cursive read an epigraph. ' _In memoriam of the person, I used to be.'_ The sentence stopped him in his tracks because it dawned on him that Kat was learning something about herself through this experience.

He shut it and went back to turning the knob.

Outside, he was trying to shove a limp single into the slot when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Panic flooded through him because he realized, he'd stupidly left the protection of the room without a weapon. Dean spun, ready to use the machine itself as a weapon if necessary.

Crowley greeted him as he circled around. "You were so smooth yesterday afternoon, squirrel…This morning? Not so much," he criticized.

"What do you want huh? Why'd you send demons after us?" Dean said angrily.

"A misunderstanding. They were sent to retrieve something for me," he clarified as he gestured his hand out cordially. "I'd like custody of _Kat_ ," Crowley demanded. Contempt leaked into his voice as he said her name.

Dean adopted his slick, cocky demeanor and leaned against the machine running a hand through his hair. "Crowley, we have danced this dance a hundred times. One of us wants something the other will never give up. You're gonna lose," Dean seethed.

"You can't keep anything from me Dean Winchester and don't forget that. You may be excellently warded but you know I could do it better. Please, that's how I found you at all tonight. I can protect our mutual interest from Rowena."

"So can I," Dean asserted in an almost growl.

"Rowena is dabbling in magic I won't even dare to touch. Old, and especially dark. Magic like that has to be sustained…fed. That type of hunger has roots that even I don't have the energy to nourish. Even the darkness won't last much longer. My sources tell me her stores are depleting as we speak. She'll need Katherine more than ever to keep her army. Just keep that in mind," Crowley warned. As he did so, however, he shifted backward the slightest bit timid.

An idea struck Dean and he raised an eyebrow bemusedly. "Are you actually threatened by her?"

"By Rowena? Please. My life isn't in danger, it's my world that is. It's my sodding plaything and she wants to swallow it all back up into the Other," he exclaimed.

Dean backtracked, thrown off by what Crowley had revealed to him. "Wait so you're trying to tell me there are more realms than just Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory?" Dean advanced a step but never moved from in front of the motel room door.

"It's frightening to me that with all you've seen you still prescribe to the inane belief system that is Christianity. All I am saying is, Rowena plans to use Katherine to perform a spell. One that will unleash all of the long dead monsters from Celtic myth. I don't fancy an army of creatures that have been scratching at a door for centuries roaming the earth."

"But isn't there already an army here? Balor and the Fomorians?" Dean pressed, eager for Crowley to reveal too much.

"Dean, Dean, Dean. It's high time to start being one step ahead instead of two steps behind. Yes, the Fomorians are here and Balor is technically in control of them, but Rowena has him captive and is looking for a way to cut him out. Katherine is the key to that. They are also not the only things out there. There are more, and they will come," Crowley pointed a short finger at Dean and windowed his body on an angle. About to turn away he added, "Think about my offer. Oh, and eh, this motel smells like herpes and regret, I'd suggest you move on," and then he vanished.

Dean stood staring at nothing for a second before gingerly opening the door back up and shutting it rapidly.

The sound of the television startled him as he reentered, as it had not been there when he left. He turned to see Kat, covered with the sheets, propped up on one elbow. Her lips were pursed—as they always were when she was tired—but she didn't know it. Her black lashes fluttered like a paper thin ember escaping a flame as she became more and more awake.

"Hey," she exhaled and she rolled towards him onto her stomach. "You missed it. I turned on the TV and Casa Erotica 3 was on. A good one I know, but I thought it was kind of silly to keep it on when you have the real thing. Then, I found Dr. No. and it was game over," she said, satisfied.

Dean crossed the room and lifted his leg to crawl onto the bed towards her on his hands and knees. He stopped right above her bare back and kissed her shoulder blade saying, "That's the best Bond movie, in my opinion."

Kat flipped over to face him. "It definitely is. Or maybe it's because I have a massive girl-crush on Ursula Andress."

"Well, she is the best Bond girl…that bikini." Dean made a sharp intake of breath like he'd drunk something hot, and then smiled.

She stared at him hungrily for a minute without saying anything. He was reminded of what she'd written as he looked into the eyes that, until minutes before, he believed were unwavering in their sense of self.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he shrugged

"What would've happened if we met like any other two people do? Not because of witches or monsters but on the street or at a bar," she stopped. Dean didn't respond because he knew that this wasn't the end of her questioning. "Say I was just a professor—"

"Or a hot librarian," Dean interrupted.

She smirked. "Or that."

Dean lay down next to her, this time propping himself up on his elbow.

"I know you as a kid wanted to be a fireman. And that you have crazy talent working on cars. I think the appropriate adjective for it is enormous—" Kat's preamble was cut short by Dean.

"Are…are you calling me fat…?" Dean said pretending to be offended.

Kat laughed heartily, pushed him lightly and continued, "But what would you actually want to be? Like if you were given the choice?"

Dean was silent for a moment, thinking. He looked upwards as if the answer would be sitting on the ceiling. He exhaled. "I don't think it would matter what I did. So long as I knew what to do," he said decisively.

Kat accepted his answer by raising her eyebrows in understanding and thought for a second. "So you'd like to be the person that can make a decision?" she countered.

"I guess I'd like to be someone who's confident of the choices they make," Dean sighed deeply, letting himself fall off of his elbow and onto his back. "You're a bad influence on me. I don't think I've ever been wrapped up in my own head this much, ever."

Kat shifted closer to him to nestle her chin in the crook of his arm and her cheek on his bare chest. Under the covers, she lifted her leg and placed it over his own. Their touching skin created a magnetic energy neither of them could understand. It was static, leaving every single hair on their bodies on edge. Something different hung in the air around them; like the prospect of a greater purpose.

* * *

Kat massaged her temples. She sat in the bunker with Sam and Dean. Their return car ride had consisted of berating Sam about his tryst until the late day hangover took hold. All tree of them were feeling its effects not just Kat, which broke tradition. Dean's eyes were slightly red and he moved slower than he usually did. Sam seemed like his eyes never really opened and his voice had become even deeper like his throat was full of mucus. Kat suspected he'd thrown up before they left and once in the bathroom of a gas station, they'd stopped in. She had too, so she wasn't judging him.

Castiel on the other hand, who had appeared at the request of Dean, was unimpaired and regarded the three of them with slight amusement. Especially Dean, who he had never seen quite this beaten.

They left the spear in the center of the table and Cas had taken an hour to gather reconnaissance from whoever would talk. Truth be told there wasn't much he'd gotten other than it was more than just a spear. Residual energy flowed through it, but Kat could've told them that.

Now they contemplated what to do about it. And that was proving to be a difficult endeavor.

"It started in my chest and it felt like burning but like it was sucking the energy out of the rest of my body to keep it going."

"That's what Crowley said. That the power had to be sustained maybe that's what it was trying to do" suggested Dean

"I think that's exactly what it was trying to do. The question is must Katherine learn to harness it?" broached Cas

"No way," said Dean immediately becoming protective.

"It's something to think about," Kat approached shooting Dean a thankful and understanding glance. "There are some corresponding symbols on the caldron. If I can translate the full inscription on the spear, I'll be able to see the connection. Maybe that will get us somewhere," she suggested.

"I have an angel friend who specializes in the cataloging and understanding of ancient cultures. When asked he said that the caldron is ingredients for the spell that gave Balor his power." Cas supplied.

"So maybe because the caldron belonged to Balor's father and the spear to his grandson, maybe they're like family heirlooms and that's why they have the same symbol," suggested Sam.

"Very possible. I can call upon the angel maybe he can assist you tonight," offered Cas, his brow crease growing deeper.

"I'll help too," Sam said, stepping up.

Kat and Dean shared a humorous look. Kat looked back to both Sam and Cas and said, "Ok Legolas and Gimli. Let's go to Mordor."

"Sam's definitely the dwarf," snickered Dean.

"Dude, I'm like twelve feet taller than Cas!" Sam protested.

"Yeah but Cas can't get drunk and doesn't understand social cues so, he's the elf," countered Kat.

"I actually understood that reference to the Lord of the Rings."

The three of them stared at Castiel for a moment and shared a lackluster laugh, being that they were too hungover to give it their full energy. Kat felt her stomach lurch and suddenly felt very confined by her jeans. She stood and excused herself to change.

As she rounded the corner to the hall of dormitory style rooms she faintly heard her name. Out of pure nosiness, she pressed her back to the cold tile walls and craned her head towards the great room, straining to hear.

" _What we have to put her in harm's way to save her?"_ she heard Sam say with worry in his voice.

" _I do not want to see Katharine hurt. The both of you have sacrificed people in the past, I do not want to see that happen here,"_ said Cas his tone almost scolding.

" _Nobody does,"_ Dean intoned despondently.

His voice seemed removed from the rest. Kat could picture his expression, withdrawn and staring at nothing as he flexed his hand helplessly. She was slightly hurt by his lack of concern but she knew ultimately that it was the cogs of his mind churning. Trying, as he always did, to find another way.

She heard Cas flutter away and took this as her cue to continue down the hall.

In another lifetime, Kat would have thought Barachiel's terse personality and stiff movements were a hilarious combination. She had, for the first twenty minutes of their meeting, watched the angel wearing the body of an incredibly small, deft, ancient looking Japanese man eagerly. He was bald, with a clean, white beard and his wrinkles were so intense that the skin of his eyelids started to fold over his eyes.

Kat's amusement with his little grunts of ascent and the way he almost caressed the artifacts dissipated when she realized he was extremely convoluted.

Sam patiently spoke with the angel as Kat recorded everything pertinent they said, piping up when it was necessary.

"So the writing on the caldron is Old Irish," Sam clarified.

"Goídelc," said Barachiel simply.

"Yes. And the corresponding characters are Oghams, the pre-Gaelic tree alphabet. The name written on both of them is Dé Danaan, which is believed to be the cycle of myth Balor and Lugh come from."

"What is not important is their name. It is what they are made from," Barachiel said peacefully.

Kat glanced at Sam whose resolve seemed to be slipping. "So these words here," Sam pointed with his pen to the roundest point of the basin's belly, "they're the incantation and underneath are the ingredients?"

"That is where the information lies. In the belly of the beast," Barachiel responded, very content and looking at Sam happily, like a baby who was sitting in a soiled diaper but completely unaware of it.

"No, we already know the Rowan and Alder stand for the first man and woman. The combination of their blood is an ingredient too. Barachiel, you told us that Vervain, Mistletoe, and Hazel; mixed with the blood and the proper moon is going to exacerbate its power."

"You are correct." The angel turned his piercing eyes to Kat who felt inexplicably nervous under their gaze.

"What I don't understand is why Hazel is written apart from the others. It's like an inch below it."

"You are asking the right questions," congratulated Barachiel.

"Thank you," said Kat trying not to grit her teeth, "but what does it mean?"

"It is hard to say what is at the core of anything; just that it means something," shrugged the angel.

Kat stared at him for a moment. His eyes so complacent but also full of fervor, willing her to uncover the secrets without his help. There was pure silence. The hunter, the angel, and the librarian sat perfectly still and Kat closed her eyes for a split second.

In that moment, all of the information swimming in her head aligned, like the stars.

"What if Hazel isn't the actual plant. What if it's talking about the phase of the moon? Just like Rowan and Alder. It's listed separately from both because it doesn't require the blood of someone born in that sign or the physical plant."

"Between two planes," said Barachiel as if it were perfectly clear.

"Hazel is also one of the trees in the zodiac right. What if the spell just has to be performed in that time?" Sam suggested.

Kat shuffled through papers covered in her swirly script. "Hazel falls over August 5th to September 1st."

"That is when your witch will strike," Barachiel affirmed.

Kat exhaled in relief. They had time. Her coup to destroy the planet wasn't for months. When she would move against Balor, was another story.

She looked at her empty cup of coffee and was instantly made aware of her thirst. She stood and asked if her two research assistants wanted anything and made her way into the kitchen. She caught Sam's pleading glance as she left and smiled to herself.

When she entered the kitchen she saw Dean leaning back in a chair eyes closed and head back, a beer clutched in his hand. Cas was sitting straight in his seat and silenced when he saw Kat enter.

"How in the world are you drinking again?" she directed at Dean.

"Hair of the dog, my friend," he responded simply. Sitting up, he said, "How's it going in there?"

"Oh, you mean with Splinter, sensei of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? Fantastic, He knows exactly what he's talking about….if only I could understand what he was saying," despaired Kat, sighing and placing her hand on her forehead.

"I should probably return him to Heaven. The angels that are against involvement in this war will realize he has gone and be angry," said Cas pushing back his chair and standing to relieve Sam.

"Tell him I said thank you," Kat called after him earnestly.

"Come on this is great, Sam finally gets to talk to his hero, Confucius, and you're getting real work done on the spear. Win, win." Dean comforted, intensely sarcastic.

Kat deadpanned. "Save me," she said.

Dean's smile remained but the animation fell from his eyes. He looked at her for a moment, the smile in his eyes concaved into pity and desperation. He shrugged like he was trying to rid what he was thinking from manifesting in his shoulders. He lifted the beer to his lips but before he took his sip he grumbled with a husk of a laugh, "I'm tryin'."

Kat shuffled towards him dramatically, letting her body seem like it was losing the fight against gravity. With each step, she acted as if she was getting pulled closer and closer to the ground until she knelt before Dean. She collapsed on his lap putting her arms through the arms of the chair. Placing her chin on his stomach, she looked up at him like a puppy. He smiled again but it still didn't reach his eyes.

"Saaaaaaave me," she cried pretending to sniffle and pouting. She used a blithe indifference to lace her words. In a way, she was voicing her fears and hoped that Dean would answer. She knew he felt threatened by the fact that they might lose this fight, but a part of Kat needed to be reassured by him.

Dean sat up laboriously. He looked into her golden brown eyes and pressed his lips to her forehead hard. Then he pulled back and placed one more kiss there quickly. "I," he said as he went back in for another peck. "Am," he said curtly after another. "Trying," he finished with a final kiss. He stood and left Kat sitting on the floor of the kitchen.

* * *

A/N: Hope you all enjoy this one. A bit of action and a bit of fun. My song-spiration for this one is This Will End by the Oh Hellos. Not a very Winchester song, but one of my favorites all the same. - Kelly


	20. Chapter 20

Something had changed within Dean. He did everything just as he normally did; that was the crux of it. The normality of his movements and actions were betrayed by the silence that came after them. It was a stagnant gap of air. Something in the way his eyes moved, like a teen driver eyeing their surroundings with the utmost of caution and finding danger in everything.

It was like he kept a secret, and he did. That secret was the severity of his desire to save Kat. What Crowley had said scared him more than he'd care to admit. As the days passed into weeks, what held him back from telling Kat was her utter apathy. She worked tirelessly on translations but it seemed like she refused to acknowledge the threat to her own life. Every day was approached with a blasé attitude. It was unclear whether or not she did so out of fear, but Dean matched it, hoping that the uniformity would bring her comfort. Kat did not do it on purpose, in fact, she shut herself off from everything, not just Dean. She couldn't reconcile her selfish desire to survive at whatever cost. She wanted to spare Dean as much pain as possible but at the end of the day, she was not selfless. It was a quality she hated most about herself. So she had avoided looking deeply into the green eyes she knew wanted her life to stay within his own more than anything. It was because she didn't know if she could guarantee it.

They stood on opposite sides of the bedroom that had become theirs.

The argument they were having had been going on since Mark had called them the day before with a location on Rowena's warehouse in Boston. Kat had tried talking logically, but they were both undeterred; she had pleaded, and now her defensive side was showing itself in the form of childish defiance. It was wearing Dean's patience thin.

She hadn't been sleeping, which was why she was always so exhausted. She'd started working herself up to the point of nausea, which stopped her from eating, which then stopped her from getting energy, which circled right back to the sleeplessness.

Dean packed carefully and meticulously avoiding eye contact with Kat as she readied for work. She was walking around in nothing but a pair of tights and a jersey t-shirt, which fell perfectly on her figure. _'Eyes front,'_ Dean told himself. When she turned around he snuck a look at her legs that were all that was visible after she bent the top half of her body into the closet in search of shoes.

She re-emerged with a pair of boots and she knew Dean was looking at her. Taking advantage of this, she went to the desk and took out a small piece of string and began tying it around her forefinger.

"What are you doing?" Dean questioned dryly, unable to resist his curiosity.

"You know how people tie a piece of string around their finger so that every time they see it, they remember something?" she said innocently.

"Yeah?"

"Well, this one is to remind me to punch you in the face."

"Ok, Kat, enough with the dramatics. We have to go," Dean said throwing up his hands, frustrated that he'd fallen for her latest trick.

"No Dean, It's been six weeks since we got the spear and we know nothing about how it works other than it giving me massive heartburn. You get a call from Mark and you're just gonna run off to fight Rowena without a weapon?"

"We're bringing the caldron as a bargaining chip. She's smart, she won't be able to move on us if she knows we have something valuable to her. Sam's negotiated with her before like we told you. We've been doing this a long time Kat," he said condescendingly as he returned to his packing. The sock he was pairing shook slightly. The movement made him realize it was his hand that was quivering with anger.

"But that was when it was just you guys looking out for each other. Now I'm here and I wanna protect you too. We've gotta plan. Something…I don't know…" Kat begged, grasping at nothing hoping the perfect argument would just fall in her lap.

"There's no time to study. We might not get another chance like this," Dean shut down, yet again.

"Ok, Ok, I'm just—" Kat stopped in the middle of her sentence. Her throat, which had been getting smaller and smaller as her tension and panic grew seemed to burst open. Her body functioned on autopilot and she ran out of the room; past Dean, who was looking over his shoulder at her. The gagging noise she made caused him to spin around to face the door but he was too late and saw only her ankle disappearing from the frame.

Kat slid on her knees to the toilet after slamming the door in Dean's angry face. She vomited violently, holding her hair back. With the release of the bile, she felt her anxiety leave her body on its coattails.

"Kat, Kat you good?" Dean growled concernedly through the door and he pounded one fist against it.

"I'm fine," she snapped back, spitting her excess saliva into the bowl. "My stress always messes with my body and it's your fault you know," she called spitefully, knowing it was an untrue statement but said it nonetheless.

"Fine, Kat, whatever," Dean responded hopelessly as he walked away from the door.

Goodbyes had been an awkward affair. Sam, was not spared Kat's rage and moodiness the past week either so the three of them stood apart, blank-faced and silent. Hoping that with their eyes they could express everything that was not being said.

The boys jerkily made their way to their respective car doors; Dean put the key in the ignition and the Impala roared to life. Above the noise, they boths noticed a song coming from the radio. Sam knew it was the first track on a highly sarcastic, nostalgic-of-the-80's, mixtape Kat had gone out of her way to put on a cassette so that it could be played in the Impala's original tape deck.

" _We must leave to where it's hot, we stole too much to gain. It's the end of the world,"_ crooned the singer over brooding instrumentals reminiscent of 1970's indie rock. Kat had chosen the song for that very reason, knowing Dean wouldn't be automatically averse to it just because it was produced in this decade. Dean believed it to be because of her love for The Doors, which is who the song reminded him of.

It didn't matter why at the moment to Dean, just that it wasn't there to remind him of all that was at stake; so he ripped the tape from the deck and threw it in the backseat as he sped away from the garage. Sam looked back and saw that Kat had not watched them go, but returned to the safety of the bunker.

* * *

The drive had gone smoothly enough. A smooth as a twenty-four-hour car ride can go. They stopped halfway through to rest and continued, in a rush to have the closest they had come to Rowena over with. They had talked generally about using the caldron to bargain for Kat's freedom, and if they could, getting enough information out of her to then plan how to use the spear against her. They knew this fight was only just beginning and that talking to her was bound to not work out in their favor.

They hid the Impala in a parking garage on the opposite side of the city, so they had a means of escape.

They didn't say much as they made their way back towards the shipyards which were bustling with activity.

They said even less as they got further in and everything around them became silent also.

Abandoned ships rose like Victorian mansions out of the gloom. An outsider would call it insane that they continued walking deeper into the shadows. Dean with his gun held high, twitched at any flicker of light, Sam followed closely behind carrying the caldron, mirroring Dean's footsteps.

A few more minutes of this they came upon the dilapidated ship and its adjoining warehouse Mark had described. The butt of the ship had been parked halfway into the loading dock of the building. The rest of it sat on the pavement and housed some old offices and storage. Algae and barnacles had started to creep up the steel of the cargo ship but there was a light in the topmost level's window. Dean held up his hand to stop Sam and without speaking, he pointed upwards to it.

Everything seemed to happen simultaneously. Sam grunted and the caldron clattered to the ground. Dean spun and shot six rounds into the abyss. A dozen pair of yellow eyes appeared. Blackness.

"Hello, Dean." The statement came from a few feet away from him, and as his eyes began to adjust he found himself tied to a chair. The cabin was once white, but now rust had overtaken its walls.

"Rowena," Dean greeted relying on his cocky grin.

"It is just wonderful to see you again Dean. I apologize for the rudeness, a girl has to take precautions after all," she fretted falsely. "I am surprised you didn't bring Katherine though."

"We brought your precious caldron, isn't that good enough?"

"Dean, I have had the inscriptions off of it for months, thanks to the codex translating them was a breeze," Rowena grinned salaciously.

"Why would you leave those tree mooks there then? Felt like starting a little community garden?" Dean gibed.

"They stayed because I hoped you'd be stupid enough to show yourself with her. And you did…well, she did," Rowena elaborated as she moved from the wall to stand in the spotlight that dangled on a wire a few feets above their heads. its harshness hurt Dean's eyes and he squinted against it.

"Yeah, she's stubborn like that," said Dean, thinking for the first time of Kat and how painfully right she'd been.

"As are you, Dean. I am not laboring under the delusion that you're going to give me what I want easily," Rowena started dangerously.

"Well…that depends on what you want," Dean countered with a cocky grin.

"I want…the world." The sentence finished and her immediate departure acted as its punctuation, marking the finality of her stance.

"Setting the bar a bit high for yourself, huh?" Dean called after her. A man in his mid-thirties entered with jet black, slick hair. He was carrying a sack, that looked like it was made of ancient leather. He stood directly in front of Dean and served a punch directly to his abdomen, causing Dean to gasp for air. The man took this moment to grab Dean's face and empty the contents of the leather sack into his mouth. The gooey translucent black substance burned his esophagus viciously but he couldn't feel it throughout his body. It remained there, cutting his oxygen intake in half and seeming to rip his throat to shreds.

* * *

Over the next twelve hours, Dean could only think of Kat. At first, it was just what he thought she'd do when she realized he and Sam were missing. After a day and a half of no contact, she was going to call Cas, or drink, or both.

As the hours progressed, however, Dean began to think specifically on Kat's location. He tried to fight and knew it was probably the slop they'd forced down his throat but he couldn't help it. He thought about the library. About the day, Kat's crap Focus had broken down and he'd picked her up. The way her curls looked framed by the sunlight spilling over the top of the building as she ran down to the stairs to the Impala.

There was no telling if Rowena could see the effect her potion was having on him mentally so Dean had to assume she now knew about the library.

He was drawn back from thinking logically to the day he and Kat had just walked around downtown Lebanon and Kat had been amazed at the fact that a small ice cream parlor actually had blackberry crème, which was her favorite flavor.

So Rowena knew about the shop they frequented.

Dean knew at that point it wouldn't be difficult for her to get a general location. Dean would have been panicked that Kat had been right and them going had put her in danger; except he couldn't find the right emotion. He felt empty. Even as he looked back upon the images he knew he should feel love and instead felt nothing.

He pulled on his bindings futilely knowing he couldn't break them but hoping in some way it would awaken him from the complacency that had washed over him because of the spell work.

The door creaked and he snapped to attention. His refusal to show that the spell was having an effect on him solidified that fact to Rowena.

She slid into the room in a vibrant green evening gown. Curiously she left the door open. Dean eyed it hungrily. His body tensed like a trapped animal and his lip curled up in disgust as he looked at the witch.

"Oh, room service…nice. I'll take a bottle of your finest champagne," spat Dean.

"Tell me where she is."

"Why," he demanded.

"Her presence is required for a little spellwork. The fine print really."

"Oh well, in that case, I think we should have a lawyer present," Dean snarled, using every last ounce of energy to defy her. It was becoming increasingly difficult to take an opposite stance; in fact, he was having trouble remembering why he even cared.

"Dean, I am going to make this simple, tell me where I can find Katherine or something unfortunate will happen to Samuel," Dean didn't speak, just stared at her with daggers in his eyes. "He really does have it coming. We have a rocky history Samuel and I. And you, Dean, were at the center of it. Since you were integral in my incarceration it's only fitting that you aid in my liberation. With as much personal trauma as possible of course." Rowena paced in front of him. Her body was trying to remain as aloof as possible and she was plucking lazy at her fingernails with hooded eyes. She was failing, as her excitement was palpable.

"Oh yeah? How so?" Dean challenged.

"By giving up, Katherine's location."

In the distance, Dean heard skin collide with skin and Sam grunt in pain. Its proximity was enough to partially wake Dean from his stupor and pull up his arms hard, dragging the chair a half an inch forward.

"She's really something else. I'd like to take her on as an apprentice. Her understanding of warding is unprecedented. Sadly, I just need her to read an incantation and take a smidge of blood," repeated Rowena, clearly tiring of Dean's resilience.

"Hate to break it to you, she's more stubborn than I am."

"But I will break you both eventually.

And when I do I will harness the ingredient I need and I will use every bit I can."

"You know the 'every part of the buffalo' attitude isn't admirable when you're talking about human beings," snapped Dean

"I will have the magic that resides in her blood Dean Winchester and you will give it to me!" she screamed. At that same moment, Sam let out a yell as something that sounded like metal came in contact with the chair.

Another hit thudded against skin, his face probably and Dean felt fury rise like bile in his throat.

Another hit, and another. With each one, Dean felt his resolve crumble. His thoughts jumped from Kat's removed danger to Sam's immediate.

"Dean….DEAN! Don't give her up for me ok? Don't lose what makes you good cause of me" Sam called out through his pain, in the hope that Dean would be able to hear him at all.

She snapped her fingers and the barrage of punches stopped and Sam gasped and sputtered shortly.

"You know Dean, misfortune does really follow you around. It's pitiful, and if I cared about anything I would feel very sorry for you. But I will give you this small piece of consolation. I am not out to kill Katherine. She will live out the rest of her life as my prisoner. But she will see no pain or suffering and she _will_ live," she said sweetly.

"I don't think she'll see being a witch's chew toy that way," retorted Dean who averted his eyes because he couldn't bring himself to look at Rowena any longer. Despite his drugged state he still couldn't stand the malice in her eyes.

"Not a chew toy. She is incredibly valuable. She's sitting on centuries of old magic, passed down from generations. She isn't a natural witch but she can be manipulated to harness the root power of ancient druids. And you know what they say, power is a girl's best friend."

"Balor's power you mean? Kat's kind of an expert on the subject," Rowena's eyes widened for a millisecond, spurring Dean onward, "Oh, yeah she knows all about him and the legends. It wasn't hard for her to make an educated guess as to what you were doing,"

"Oh so then she'll know I intend to take her descendants power. I trust she's studied? So reading the incantation in primitive Celtic should be simple work for her." Rowena turned her surprise into something beneficial in this statement, covering her tracks.

There was small metallic rap at the door and Dean took the opportunity to focus on something other than the russet colored walls which had begun to dance around his vision.

Rowena opened it with a flick of her forefinger, and behind it stood a young girl no older than 16. Dean immediately felt pity for her on top of all else. He wondered if she was here of her own will or was trapped like he was and was praying for someone to care enough to rescue her.

"Ma'am. The Fomori spotted someone on the perimeter. They believe it to be a woman," she said timidly.

"Well, I wonder what a woman would be doing here all by herself. I wonder who she'd have to protect," Rowena cooed as she eyed Dean pointedly.

Dean felt dread wash over him; above the effects of the potion, beyond even his worry for Sam, was Kat. He felt fury and torrential fear clash together inside him, seeming to rip his heart in half. All of this was contained in his chest because the effects of the draft that Rowena had forced down his throat reclaimed control and he was left with an aching and a sense that the wideness of the world had crashed downward into this second in time.

Rowena practically skipped from the room almost cackling with glee. Dean sat, tied to the chair feeling like he was listening to a cacophony of sirens through a window rushing to some unseen accident. Feeling sorrow for the tragedy he did not know; the window acting as a sieve to sift out the emotion and make him far-removed.

* * *

Five hours earlier, Kat paced in the great room, absentmindedly nibbling on the collar of a hideous sweater. They had gone for pizza one night, and Kat noticed it in a thrift shop window. It was mustard yellow and cable knit. Dean purchased it and forced her to wear it because of how hilarious they'd found its hideousness. Now she wore it freely, feeling closer to him while inside its unusual exterior. Where there once was disdain for it, there was now comfort in it, as she waited for Castiel's return.

"Well, you were right. Rowena has them," he confessed as he appeared simultaneously.

"Perfect." Kat dropped her arms and went to the table and began to snatch at twigs, herbs and flowers she had collected for this very purpose.

"What are you doing?" Cas asked sorrowfully.

"We're going to counteract the herbs listed on the caldron, so that just maybe it will make whatever she's brewing in it, powerless. Even if it's for a minute. It's a long shot, I don't even know if magic works like that, which is why I didn't suggest it to Sam and Dean. Now, we have no choice but to try," she said frantically crushing a yellow flower that looked like the spindles of a firework were protruding from it.

"I fear you would make an excellent witch," said Cas with a hint of amusement in his tone.

"No," laughed Kat, "I'm just good at adapting to survive."

"Alright Captain Badass, " he saluted casually, using Dean's affectionate nickname for her, "what's the plan?"

* * *

 **A/N: Alrighty dear readers, we're getting into all the drama and intrigue. So, that's cool. I would love to hear what you have to say, so any feedback would be great (I'm actually desperate for some reassurance, no biggie lol) -Later, Kelly**


	21. Chapter 21

Kat stuffed her terror down as Cas left to take up his position on the opposite side of the ship. She knew the plan was as well thought out as it could be but she couldn't help but feel like something would go wrong; like there was more than just her life at stake and that she would be better off alone.

She pushed the unattractive thought aside and jogged to the door.

She clutched the knife that she'd had Cas burn spell work into so hard that she felt the shapes imprinting into her palm. The door didn't creak as she slipped through it. One foot daintily placed in front of the other she made her way down the long and ominous corridor. It was freezing inside despite the summer night.

The image that Cas had scribbled of the layout of the ship was burning her brain. The first corner was approaching and after that, she'd get to her first mission; disabling the hotspot of warding, they knew of. Every step she took made her more nervous because she had expected to meet trouble by now. It was possible that Rowena didn't know they were here, but Kat thought that unlikely.

Her forearm leading the way to block an attack and the silver serrated hunting knife held overhand, parallel to her chin. Each step reminded Kat of how very small she was in this moment, that the culmination of the last few months was to be decided by every move she made. It manifested as a metallic taste on her tongue, reminding her of the magnitude of its danger.

She peeked her head around the corner and cleared the next hall. The air in this one was infinitely different from the previous like there was an invisible negative energy, thick like icing, and pulsing around her. She couldn't seem to take a full breath as she walked up to the door of a supply close, and opened it, revealing a vat that was glowing and covered in sigils, symbols, and spells. Into the vat, she poured the vial of betony she'd boiled down and stored in a small backpack.

The result was anti-climactic as it just fizzled slightly and stopped glowing. Kat was left in sudden darkness, quickly she fumbled for the small flashlight she'd also brought. She lit it and used its brightness to find all the sigils and break them with the edge of her knife. As she got to one of the last, one she recognized from her readings, Kat heard a demonic sounding grumble coming from inside the vat. She turned and saw it slowly growing redder and brighter like a sunset against the dark horizon.

Kat raced back to the sigil and chipped away at it and then ran full speed towards the door. Thankfully the storage closet was small. because just as she closed the door and threw all her weight on it, the vat erupted.

A sound like a nuclear explosion happening far away on a large field reverberated what felt like the entire ship. A force like a battering ram smashed against the inside of the door and Kat found herself thrown back a few feet and as she stumbled to get up, she saw a woman standing in the middle of the hallway, smiling serenely like a porcelain doll.

"Katherine….it's been a long time."

"Carman," Kat breathed.

Her silvery hair fountained out of her scalp, somehow both matted and pin straight. the longest layer fell at her waist. The hue of her skin was not lively, but gray, almost synonymous with her hair. Her eyes looked mattified, not shiny like a demon's black, but flat and the color of gunmetal. "In the flesh," cooed Carman.

She extended a muscular arm, made a cinching motion and Kat was forced straight up and clutched at her throat, feeling like her airways were shutting.

"I've never had someone expel me like you did Katherine. Maybe all the fuss Rowena is making about you is founded after all. I don't really care a lick about you, though. I'm just here for the chaos of it all."

"How poetic," grunted Kat who was turning a vibrant shade of red.

"When Rowena opens the door to the Otherworld I will be reunited with my sons," rejoiced Carman as she released Kat. Kat immediately inventoried her advantages. "And when that happens, we will come for you. Tradition dictates that I take your dignity in battle and present it to your chieftain. I wonder what our Mr. Winchester would do when presented with your head...?"

Carman moved so quickly that by the time Kat had blinked, she was directly before her. Her right arm came down from overhead and knocked Kat into the cold wall. The back of Carman's forearm dug into Kat's skin, and the freezing temperature of her skin burned Kat's throat like frost bite.

"I wouldn't want to be the one that finds out," snarled Kat as she brought her into contact with Carman's side hoping that, despite her being supernatural, kidney shots were still just as effective.

Carman did recoil giving Kat enough time to grasp her knife firmly and swipe horizontally. Across the length of Carman's collar bone, a large gash appeared. The spell-work knife sizzled the gray skin, leaving white blisters in its wake.

Carman shrieked ferociously loud and Kat was forced to drop the knife and bend down to cover her ears. A trickle of blood escaped between her fingers, clenched together to protect her eardrums.

The noise stopped and she pushed herself up off her knees. "When are all you gods, lower-case 'g', gonna make good on your promises and kill me already?" Kat goaded, hoping her last ditch effort would work.

Carman growled and closed the distance between them but her rage had blinded her enough that Kat's movement looked only like an escape attempt. Kat stumbled falsely and snatched the discarded knife, and hid it in her sleeve.

Kat felt her head collide with the metal of the wall, the sound ricocheting inside her skull as well as in the hallway.

The triumph of getting the knife distracted her from the pain she was inevitably going to feel. Carman's ice cold eyes held her paralyzed. Kat bided her time, knowing that Cas had to be on his way to the checkpoint they'd laid out, and once he discovered she was not there, he'd come looking. For now, her mind worked a mile a minute. It rushed through possible escapes, or defense and then, shut down or built upon them until she had something manageable.

The entire time hysteria was clawing desperately trying to break free and smash the plans she'd made, which were as fragile as sand castles.

Kat could feel the frostiness emanating from Carman and her nose felt like she'd taken a deep breath of winter air.

"Now, Rowena was very pleased when I found the traces of your true lineage in your blood as I was vacationing in your conscious mind. I'd lose that praise if I were to harm you. But...accidents happen, do they not?" she purred.

A rage filled Kat as she spoke and she slipped the knife from her sleeve. She clutched it fiercely and never looked away from Carman's dead eyes.

A noise rebounded down the hall adjacent to theirs. A blinding light and its heat followed immediately after and Carman slackened her grip in confusion, staring at it. Kat took that moment to use all her strength to kick Carman in the gut. It derailed her and she stumbled backward. Kat thrust herself off the wall by her shoulders, using that force to propel her forward and she straddled Carman while towering above her.

Carma's hand were out behind her to catch her fall and there was no emotion in her eyes, but her brow had begun to furrow.

Cas appeared around the corner, trench coat flying behind him and he ran. He huffed and eyes widened.

Kat said nothing, for Carman didn't deserve final words. She thrust her knife into Carman's abdomen and continued pulling it upward.

The goddess of evil shrieked in agony but no blood appeared. It just created a gash like the one on her collar bone. The blisters piled up on top of each other surrounding the wound. Her entrails were just as gray and inanimate as her skin, and within her was really just blackness; rotted and cold.

Cas appeared next to Kat and knelt by Carman, holding a hand over her forehead.

"Dead," he said impressed.

"She was the witch that possessed me a few months ago, remember?" Kat said in disbelief.

"I wouldn't forget getting stabbed with a pair of scissors. We've come a long way since then."

"We have," Kat affirmed, love for the angel surging in her chest. "Any trouble on your end?"

They started off down the hall as Cas spoke, "just that one. Their warding is down."

"Good. Let's go get our boys," Kat said with a smile as they came to the fork. "See you in 15 minutes."

* * *

Sam and Dean found themselves bound to new chairs. This time, in a large room piled high with old, dusty crates.

Dean looked at Sam, and after two days of mistreatment, his appearance was just as Dean had expected it to be. His nose had clearly been broken, leaving dried blood where it had flowed over his mouth and onto his shirt. As a result, of the break, two bright bruises, shaped like eggplants had begun to form under his eyes. His wrist was slathered in blood and bruises and there was a bit of ivory bone peeking through the skin at the joint.

"Sam…" croaked Dean. Even though he intended it to have more force, Dean simply couldn't find the energy.

"Dean….?" Sam said inquisitively. He couldn't find anything wrong with his brother physically, but the removed glassy look in his eye told him otherwise.

Dean didn't respond, just gave him a half-hearted smirk.

"Well boys, welcome to the grand finale," said Rowena as she glided into the room with her gown cascading around her ankles; "and here is our guest of honor." She extended her hand with a flourish and kept sashaying down the aisle leading to a small platform.

Neither of them could turn but, they didn't need to, as their ears were greeted by feisty protestations.

"So I talked to your son a while back, you guys seem pretty dysfunctional. Is that like a Caliban/Sycorax type deal?" Kat goaded. As she spoke Dean saw her appear out of his periphery. Two very large figures, Fomori, ushering along her much smaller one. Kat was practically kicking in defiance as they pushed her forward.

"Oh, a reader of my dear William. You know it's been said he based Queen Mab on my likeness," Rowena boasted.

"Well, that's attractive," spat Kat as she was thrust into the epicenter of the action. Sam and Dean could see only her back as she straightened up to her full height and faced Rowena, who was standing on the platform about a foot taller than the rest of them.

Rowena stepped forward too, sizing herself up against her adversary. "Low aiming gibes will get you nowhere my dear," she said with an alarming edge to her voice.

Kat did not falter in her stance, even as she was approached by the young girl Dean had pitied earlier. The girl backhanded Kat and the sound echoed off the steel of the ship. Kat reeled from the impact but regained her footing and went to retaliate.

Sam saw her reach up to grab the girl's hair when Rowena said, "Now, now, we can't have her damaged…not in her condition."

Kat moved away from the girl, who scampered back behind one of the towers, and turned to Rowena. "What condition?" Kat stepped forward.

"You really don't know? You must've had some symptoms by now…" Rowena baited.

"Symptoms of what?" pressed Kat, putting her hands on her hips.

Rowena looked up tactfully from examining a roll of parchment laid out before her on a great table. Her eyes which had been lazy seconds before became malignant.

"Well…your pregnancy of course."

Rowena loosed the arrow of words that seemed to fly straight into Kat's chest; because when they left her lips Kat stepped backward as if struck by their burden. Instinctively, Kat's hands fell from her hips but remain bent so that her palms were not far from her abdomen.

Sam looked straight to Dean, whose eyes were fixed intently on Kat, mouth set into a grim line.

"How…how would you know something like that?" Kat said, trying to regain her composure. Blood began pulsing loudly in her ears, in fact, all her senses went into overdrive.

"Because that's how I planned it, dear girl." Rowena smiled wickedly, waiting for one of them to inquire further. When they did not she sighed exasperatedly, "in a way I'm jealous of you Katherine. You will have a child that you love infinitely. Which is why I will take him. A child born out of love—and yes, don't worry, I may have pushed you together by manipulating your libido thanks to Cernunnos, but the feelings were all there to be manipulated—can be my greatest downfall. I've always viewed love as a weakness to be exterminated. Now it will become my weapon."

Kat felt thoroughly nauseated. "So…everything was you?"

"Everything. I had to get the measurements just right you understand. By my calculation, I'd say you're six weeks along? If I am correct—and I always am—the child will be born under the sign of Alder, which makes him my last ingredient. I will spill every last drop of his blood over the Great Oak and have access to unlimited power."

Kat stepped back again, feeling the bile rise in her throat at the prospect of the child she'd just learned of, blood being spilled. Sam's voice rose behind Kat and she was grateful, because it acted as reinforcement. His words gave her ground to stand on. "That's dark Rowena, even for you. Could you really kill a child?" Sam barked.

"Samuel, I could kill anything if I wanted something bad enough, we have been through this before, and don't you remember? I also seem to recall you doing anything to remove the Mark of Cain from your brother's arm."

"Yeah for my brother's life, Rowena, not power!" he shouted back at her.

"This is revenge! Revenge for Oscar, revenge for my imprisonment, and revenge on Crowley for aiding and abetting two oafs in their reckless mission to save only each other!" She paused to take a breath. "My mission is to cure the world of demons and their incessant apathy and claims of being evil manifested in reality."

"Oh, yeah and how do you expect to accomplish that?" Dean spoke for the first time since the meeting began. His voice startled Kat, not because of its force or volume but because how detached and isolated it seemed. It didn't seem himself and she immediately began to worry for his well-being.

Initially she had thought Sam was in greater danger because of the mess of blood over him but it dawned on Kat that Dean must be battling an internal demon, some form of witchcraft. Something with which she was all too familiar.

Dean's statement turned out to be the wrong thing to say, because it ignited a nefarious gleam in Rowena's eye. She snapped her fingers and the large dark cherry wood dining table filled up with tinctures and phials. There was a large scroll with ornate characters written across it. The two Fomori that had accompanied Kat into the room appeared again, pushing her forward roughly.

Sam tightened against his restraints and out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean motionless.

"What did you do to Dean?" he shouted at Rowena.

"Your brother is one of the most stubborn and strong willed people, I have ever met. So I removed it."

"Removed what?" Kat questioned as she was thrust right in front of the table, standing face to face with the witch.

"We'll say, I've made him….docile," she smiled wickedly, revealing perfectly cared for white teeth, small like grains of rice. This was the first time Kat had ever seen her nemesis and she found herself disappointed by the lack of stereotype.

Her skin was flawless and her vibrant hair avalanched over one shoulder. An image of symmetry and beauty; which made her all the more threatening to Kat.

 _Now would be a good time to make your move Cas,_ silently prayed Kat. Nothing in response.

"Read it," commanded Rowena.

"No."

"Darling I really don't think you want me to use the elixir I've concocted for Dean, on you. It tends to have adverse after effects," Rowena practically sang.

"Do it," dared Kat, clinging onto the blind hope that she could hold out long enough for Cas to appear. _'Come on Cas, little bit of a life or death situation here…'_ she plead in her mind again.

Rowena's expression turned on a dime and her lips scrunched together and then formed a straight line as she reached out for Kat's black mane. Her hand entwined within the curls and she pulled, hard, on it to lower Kat's nose just above the parchment.

A revelation dawned upon Kat. Suddenly, she knew what Rowena said was true, and the nausea wasn't stress and the fatigue wasn't her doing too much. She felt each of her nerves alive and flailing like a livewire that had been severed to reveal the power trapped within the rubber casing.

Her thoughts turned immediately to the child, to the endless possibilities it would have. Kat wanted to preserve them, and with Cas still nowhere to be found she was trapped. This time, instead of retreating into herself, she'd have to relinquish her dignity and play along. To save two lives.

All of these thoughts happened in a moment. Like the moment between the detonation of a firework and the immediate 'ooh's' and 'aah's' that follow it.

Her predicament became as apparent to her as the sound of Sam's struggling against the bindings, as the drips of water from the condensation on the window or her own breath, that despite its rapidness was strong. Everything in that moment was synchronized.

' _CAS!'_ she thought one last time. Rowena pushed her nose even closer to the page so she could smell its age.

Rowena began speaking in modern Gaelic, which Kat could not understand. "chumacht de Balor mo fèin…" she began and waited for Kat.

Kat stared at the oghams she knew were sinister and begged to whomever she was about to affect by uttering them for forgiveness before she took her breath to start.

The collection of vertical and horizontal lines began to glow as she spoke them in their native tongue. In English, it translated to simple vowels and consonants that sounded more like a child learning to speak than words that bore so much power.

The floor began to shake and Rowena released Kat who stumbled back. She watched in awe as the oghams she had just spoken flew off the page and began clinging to any part of Rowena's exposed skin. Capitalizing on this moment of confusion, just as what sounded like lightening struck each of the Fomori that guarded the perimeter and they were paralyzed where they stood. Kat dashed to where Sam was tied, "CAS!" she screamed out loud this time, as she started working on his hands.

Just then she heard what she'd been waiting for. A huge, resounding, boom. The explosion they'd planned. The force of the stones that Cas had materialized and enchanted with the vervain they'd banked their entire escape on.

" _Are you sure this will work?"_ he had asked.

 _"Well, they used to stone witches to death, so maybe if we polarize the effect of the herb they used for protection against stoning it will make her weak enough to be stopped by it, even for a moment,"_ Kat had suggested, hoping for validation from him.

" _And if it's powered by my grace, I can make sure it targets only the evil in the room."_ And so the plan had been born.

Now it was coming to fruition as the ground began to break apart into chunks. Rowena's eye flew around in a panic and as they started pelting towards her as she flung her hands around violently to deflect them.

Kat finished untying Sam and now that some pressure of the escape was relieved from her she became dizzy. She saw Cas materialize ten feet from them and started walking to him. Seconds later she turned and screamed to Sam and Dean who had just broken Dean's ankles free of confinement, "COME ON!"

Cas lead the way and Kat felt Sam and Dean catch up to them quickly. She reached her hand behind her for whoever was closest to drag it in the right direction. She clamped down hard and felt the familiar roughness and callouses and knew it was Dean's hand she held.

"This way, this way, this way," she ordered as they rounded a sharp corner.

They broke free into the night air and they watched as the warehouse windows were filled with an opaque black smoke.

"She's probably fought off the stones," Cas suggested hurriedly. "We have to leave this place."

At that moment, the night's events caught up to Kat who had begun mentally assessing her injuries. Her head was pounding and she knew one of her ribs was bruised. Her lip had begun to get fat and the taste of coppery blood in her mouth made her stomach turn. She bent forward to vomited into an oddly placed patch of grass at the edge of the paved road on which they were standing.

She stood back up, looking defeated and horrified. Dean couldn't bring himself to go to her because he was the cause of everything she had endured. Instead he watched as Sam stepped forward, placing a hand on her back, and his shocked and disappointed expression as Dean turned his back.

At first he started walking to clear his head from the bomb that had been dropped on them; then he continued at a jog. Then a run.

All the while he heard Sam yelling after him but he couldn't be bothered. The sound stopped abruptly and he was glad because it meant Cas had taken them to safety.

For now, Dean was headed for the Impala, in an attempt to get as far away from his responsibility as possible.

I hope you all enjoyed the big reveal, don't worry there's still plenty left for our friends to do! I hope I can continue to make this story different! Song-spiriation of this chapter: Through the Valley by Shawn James. -Kelly


	22. Chapter 22

_"Dean!" called Sam. No answer. Just a retreating figure down the docks. " **Dean**!" Sam repeated. Again, nothing_.

* * *

Inside the ship, however, a cloud of dust rose after all of the jagged stones had clattered to the ground. Rowena had fallen backward because of her expenditure of magic to defend herself. The heels of her hands had scrapes because she thrust them out to catch herself and she sat upright feeling like she'd been hit by a bus.

The Fomori she'd stationed in the room were struggling to gather all of their broken limbs. One looked like the mast of a ship shattered by cannon fire and lay in two separate halves. One of the borrower witches lay lifeless, her head draining of blood because one of the rocks had collided with her temple.

"Madame?" said one of the first attendants on the scene, offering her his hand.

She slapped it away and stood up on her own, surveying the carnage before her.

"What are the damages?" Rowena snapped.

"Carman…is dead. Among others. The Fomori will regenerate but we'll have to find another base of operations," he gestured around, clutching his clipboard closer. A clipboard that he inexplicably managed to cling to throughout the battle.

Rowena looked at him like he reeked of absurdity. "Get me a list of the dead. We need to know how much of our army needs replacing. That was quite the stunt they pulled…" she mused. "A one-time deal but I can't deny that I'm impressed by her. I think it's time to move to the Great Oak." She noticed the way her attendant was staring at her like daisies were sprouting from her head rather than hair. "What?!" she demanded.

"Madame….your-your face," he stuttered trying to find anything with a reflective surface.

There was a silver platter laying on the ground, thrown from the long table that had been adorned with her magical baubles and instruments for witchcraft. He scampered to it and presented it to Rowena who snatched at it hungrily.

She looked at her otherwise unaffected face and froze. The spell had worked. The absorption of Balor's power had worked, better than she could've hoped. But, it came with the proof that Balor had borne himself. The third eye.

She screamed long and vicious like car tires skidding on a wet highway, careening towards its demise.

"But, this means that the spell was a success. You're the most powerful being in the country now,"

"What good is power when you don't have the face to sell it?! I was aiming for 'the fairest of them all', yeh daftie! Reassemble the alter!"

"In theory, you could deform every one of your followers, so that they are all equal under you," he suggested tentatively.

"And what kind of message would that send, hmm? Hello, follow Rowena you'll get a physical deformity out of the deal?" she snapped, turning from him and hanging her head in contemplation. "We go ahead with then next phase as planned, just accelerated. Double the number of covens in each state; book clubs, mommy and me classes, those paint bar fads soccer moms are losing it over. Just gather up women and create covens. Next we find the girl. She's strong but she can't get far on her own and pregnant," she ordered.

"How do you know?"

"Because I know how hard it is to be a woman, a mother. Doesn't matter if hundreds of years have passed…it's all the same," Rowena said with the slightest hint of regret and pain in her voice.

The attendant scuffled his shoes for a moment before speaking, trying to find the best way to word his query. "And…your eye?"

"A veil will have to do. Black. Spanish lace. That is your personal task, Godfrey, do not disappoint me," Rowena said icily.

Godfrey kept his face straight but the fear of Rowena he held onto to keep him on his toes seemed to be lacking a stereotypical gulp. He lingered for a moment longer and left. He walked from the room with grace and poise, refusing to show any weakness in front of Rowena, lest she chooses to replace him like she'd done with the last three.

It had worked for him so far because she seemed to respect his professionalism. Now, he had three things on his mind: covens, Spanish lace, and how Rowena was even more unpredictable than before, which made her that much more harrowing.

* * *

Dean Winchester knew what to do in the face of death. He'd go to a bar and order a whiskey neat and drown his sorrows in it, like a bee trapped in honey.

It was strange that in the face of life, he chose to do the same thing.

He sat at a bar, in some no name town in Pennsylvania staring at his glass of whiskey that he couldn't bring himself to drink. His throat was tight. It felt like anaphylactic shock. An allergic reaction to life. What was he supposed to do in the face of mewling, pooping, commitment-oriented, life?

They had escaped. Escaped with their lives, which was his primary concern. So he celebrated that victory.

He knew his quick departure had been caused by the residual effects of Rowena's potion but now it was too late to turn back so he took this opportunity to quickly compartmentalize all of the things he was thinking, that he thought he never would.

As far as he was concerned, Dean didn't think he was going to live past thirty, let alone actually _live._ Having children was living, wasn't it? That was normal, expected? But when had Dean ever really been able to manage the apple-pie life. He'd achieved some sort of middle ground with Kat, and look where it had gotten her.

Kat. His mind turned to her for a moment, trying to picture the bumps and bruises he'd counted on her person before he'd left. He couldn't do it, however, because all he saw were her eyes that fought to hold back tears and in his mind, they screamed betrayal. He knew she was safe with Sam because, he trusted his brother with his own life; which hers was now the equivalent of. Hers, and the baby's.

The baby. It was hard to think of. He wondered what his own father had done when confronted with the news. Dean had been there after all and known of his own conception before his own father even did. His mind began to spin. Thinking of his mother and father was like jumping to a different lifetime.

The question remained, could he handle this. Could, Dean Winchester persevere?

He left his whiskey undrunk at the bar and walked out the door.

* * *

Cas had placed his forefingers on Kat and Sam's forehead's and taken them directly to the mouth of the bunker. They went inside in a daze but as they passed the garage Kat said, "I need someone to take me to the drug store."

Sam checked his watch. 11:30. "I don't think they're open," he said awkwardly, not really sure how to handle himself in this situation.

"Are we above breaking into one?" Kat said sounding peeved.

"Why, are you ill? I can fix that," Cas said entirely too innocently as Sam turned away from Kat and made his eyes wide in disbelief. He mouthed, 'come on' and Cas suddenly realized.

"Oh…I…I, uh can check if you wish," he stammered.

Kat recoiled from him and scrunched her nose in distaste. "Ew. No. An angel pregnancy test is an invasion of privacy," she said walking away.

"It's not invasive. I just have to sense it," he called after her. Kat did not turn around. She didn't realize how fast she was walking away but Sam and Cas only had to wait a few seconds before starting in on the situation at hand.

"….can you? Sense it, I mean?" asked Sam tentatively.

Cas closed his eyes and focused intently for a moment. When he reopened them they held a glimmer of happiness. "Yes. There is a second heartbeat. The sound suggests…hope, or the semblance of it. It is… pure. She is most assuredly infected with Dean's seed," said Cas sweetly.

Sam had been moved, until the latter part of his sentence. Once Cas finished, he clamped his hands over his ears and said, "Agh! Gross Cas!" and walked away also, leaving Cas standing alone, clueless.

* * *

Dean had spent the entirety of the trip from Pennsylvania to Ohio organizing his thoughts. He was proud that he'd willed himself to go even further into his trip home but then a thought occurred to him.

He had no idea how to change a diaper and he was pretty sure Kat didn't either.

He immediately found a bar. Again, ordered a whiskey neat and proceeded to stare at it.

It's not like hunting was a paying gig. He couldn't simply hustle pool for enough money to pay for those diapers, and all that a family entails. How could Dean Winchester, care for others? Not in the sense that he'd punch through a wall to save them, or stop their bleeding with sutures made of dental floss. How could he lend all that he is and the parts of himself that Dean didn't even know yet to a small human who needed guidance? Needed someone, to lead by example and be secure and confident in their convictions in order to form his own? It would take all that Dean had, which meant he'd need to get to the root of who he was. That was something Dean had never attempted to do.

Who was he really? Did he even know how to be introspective? How could he be secure in himself enough to guide another person? He'd certainly fouled that experience up for Sam. But Sam had been old enough to make decisions for himself or scrape up money. Sam could've interacted with the world, and used those things to supplement what he'd seen from Dean. He was able to rely on himself above everything else. For anything, monetary or otherwise; this child couldn't.

It was becoming less a question about money for Dean and more one of character. His opinion of himself so low, that he couldn't remove any of the burdens that he uncovered; all he could do was add more on.

* * *

The dawn had brought about a new sense of urgency for Sam and Kat. Cas had returned briefly, to tell them he hadn't found Dean yet and to fix Sam's shattered wrist that they'd somehow overlooked before.

The local pharmacy opened at 6:00. Kat was there, promptly at 6:05. The trip had existed purely in silence, but Sam refused to let her go alone.

Everything felt wrong, but something told Kat that this was necessary, like a seriously messed up right of passage. She'd always been irregular so there was no other way to tell but a test. But somehow a test felt contrived, like this sort of thing should be felt.

Very few of those happy mothers found out they were to be so, by a power-mad witch dropping the bomb. So, Kat was already robbed of that experience, the least she could do was pee on a stick.

"What's it say?" Sam asked impatiently through the door.

Kat was in the bathroom at the bunker still sitting on the toilet, staring at a pink plus sign. She thought that maybe just the prospect had made her hyper-attuned to little things that could have been telltale signs. She thought that Rowena merely mentioning the possibility was enough to awaken some sort of protective instinct but, it may not have been true. Now that it was, and she sat there, slapped in the face with its incorruptibility, she wondered what in the hell to do next.

Was she allowed to be happy? Could this be the speed bump that changed her life completely. That's what people say children do. But was she ready for that commitment?

In a daze, she pulled up her pants, washed her hands and opened the door, startling Sam, who had leaned against the opposite wall.

"Positive," she said dryly. "Congratulations. You're an uncle," she finished. Kat clutched the test in her palm and walked past him, and Sam followed immediately falling in with her rhythm quickly.

"Kat, listen, he'll be back soon. You saw him back there something wasn't right," Sam desperately tried to plea his brother's case to her.

Kat looked back at him with eyes that held the aftermath of destruction and sighed, shutting the door to the room that had been hers when she first came there.

Once inside she looked around at her belongings that remained stoic like displays in a museum. A constant vigil of her old self that she hadn't regretted losing to Dean. She loved to do all of the same things, but now she did them with him, and he'd shown her new things to add. In the advent of this new creature, her idea of her own selfhood as she knew it was fading away. She'd have to become a new person, with very little time for the things that she loved.

It may have been selfish to think this way, but she wondered if she'd enjoy being a mother enough to shower the child with love, rather than resentment for all the things she'd sacrificed to devote herself to something entirely new; something that she was terrified of beginning.

Especially alone.

She rifled absentmindedly through a box of papers that had the ghosts of her brainchildren from when she was first introduced to his world. Like the world she'd already known had broken down into millions of facets and became more known. Like Dean had exposed her to the full power of the sun.

The notebook had scribbles about sluagh and she shuddered at the memory of her dream, but she remembered the night before they'd faced it when she placed her head on Dean's arm and he'd accepted it.

She looked down at her stomach which hadn't become evidence yet. She felt trapped by it, and what she knew she had to do.

She grabbed a slip of a steno pad that hadn't been fully written on. She crossed out the lettering at the top and began to write.

Outside, Sam walked away from the door, having absolutely no idea how to console her. He fished his phone out of his pocket, anger taking away some of his fingers dexterity.

The dial tone infuriated him. How dare it waste his time? This, this was important.

"Dean?" Sam said in response to the answering machine. "I am ashamed of you. What the hell, man? First you run off and then you don't answer? Well, I'm here, with Kat, and she's not doing great. I can't do anything for her, it's not my place. This is your job. Your responsibility," Sam paused for a moment to collect himself and reduce the harshness in his tone. "I know you feel like you've gotten saddled with a lot over the years. Maybe you feel like this will be like a repeat of the responsibility of watching out for me. Whatever it is, that's not true. This will be different. You'll never get to prove me wrong if you don't come back and try. Get your ass back here man," as Sam finished his rant, a teaspoon of desperation bled through.

He ran his hand through his hair and went to the kitchen, hoping that any food there wasn't moldy. He retreated, feeling guilty as ever, that he couldn't do anything for Kat but keep himself going.

It was hours later that she emerged from the room. Her eyes darted to either side of the hall and saw no one there. She crept slowly and went to Sam's room. She fixed the yellow, lined paper to his door with a small piece of tape.

The light bag she'd packed was fitted firmly over her shoulder and she stored her keys in her pocket so they wouldn't jingle and alert anyone to her presence; or imminent absence.

* * *

Dean had made it through Iowa and into Nebraska before his anxieties pulled him over again. Dean felt the redundancy of sitting at his fifth bar of the trip. He felt like a coward, especially because he had stopped twice in Indiana.

Again sat his whiskey. The amber liquid reminded him of the sun shining through Kat's iris's; which reminded him of the pain he'd seen reflected in them.

He was nauseous.

"Well…I'd say tonight isn't going as planned," said a comfortable voice from behind him.

"Eat me, Crowley," spat Dean, clasping his hand around his glass.

"Where's your Moose?" Crowley looked around apprehensively.

"Don't you want a little one on one time with your favorite Winchester?" Dean asked cockily, not meeting his eye.

"Stop with the bravado, we both know your balls are caught in an iron vice," The cajoling in Crowley's voice became more somber.

"And we both know you'd love to see that," Dean returned the false air of confidence.

"I know about Katherine."

"And you thought you'd drop by and give me a little advice on fatherhood?" Dean snapped, very tempted to take a sip of his drink when he heard the King of Hell referring to his unborn child. He realized, that he'd left the demon blade in the Impala and had only his gun for protection. In a tight spot, it wouldn't even delay Crowley because the bullets it was loaded with, were for killing witches. They lacked the distinct and beautiful etching of the Key of Solomon. Dean internally kicked himself for being essentially defenseless.

He looked around casually and saw glass salt and pepper shakers sitting six inches down from his bar stool, the remnants of another man's meal. He calculated how many seconds it would take to reach for it, break it, and use the contents.

"I'm here to gloat actually. If you had just given her to me when I asked you wouldn't have this problem. She wouldn't've been around to...tempt you," Crowley said with a sly smile. "Dean, I'm also here to warn you. This will be my last amicable visit I'm afraid. Some say that I have babied you because of an attachment. It's merely that you have been more beneficial to keep around than to dispose of. Whatever the reason, it has...expired."

"What changed? You get tired of getting your ass beat?" Dean coaxed, bile rising in his throat fed by fury. His muscles tensed.

"You are an honorable man Dean Winchester. It sickens me, but I can't deny it. This time around, you will be standing in my way. Your honor is what will keep you there. I will kill Katherine, pregnancy or not, to defeat the sludge-eating whore that is my mother."

Crowley spoke matter-of-factly. They sat like people who had been born enemies, but against all odds had found something redeemable in each other. But now, the tides had turned and they could not fight their oppositeness.

Dean looked at Crowley and expected his face to be smug, but saw only regret, and lifted his glass to toast him.

"So this is war then," Dean exhaled with wrathful diction.

"War," Crowley affirmed. As he spoke Dean lunged for the salt shaker, breaking it against the hard wood of the bar. The glass exploded and salt mingled with the shards. Dean was prepared to shove whatever was left in the jagged bottom half, down Crowley's throat but there was red smoke pouring out of the meat-suit.

Dean didn't care if anyone in the bar had seen, thankfully, there seemed to be no one. He slammed a twenty down on the bar and ran to the Impala.

The rest of his trip was fueled by urgency and the desire to do what he knew he should have all long. As he drove he turned on his phone to see twenty missed calls from Sam, and he pushed his foot down on the gas harder.

The small hill and the hidden door to the bunker appeared and Dean rounded the corner to the entrance to the garage.

Dean felt time passing but only measured it by each step he took closer to the door.

"Sam!" he called, "Kat!" Dean took the stairs two at a time. As he reached the bottom, Sam, still in his bloodstained clothes, came around the corner.

Sam's anger was palpable but Dean didn't understand the disconsolateness that lay underneath it.

"Where is she?" Dean asked.

"She's gone, Dean. She's been gone for two hours. I've been trying to track her but she disabled the GPS in her phone and her car," Sam explained evenly.

He tried not to let disappointment seep into his voice.

* * *

 **Alrighty, ladies and gents. There is going to be some dark subject matter and adult themes from here on out. I'm excited to get into the real meat of the story where we put their love to the test. As always, I am desperate for your feedback, thanks to those of you that did! Would any of you like to see more emotional/love stuff before I put Kat and Dean through the ringer? How is the pacing? Do you believe their story? Thanks always for reading! Until next time, -Kelly**


	23. Chapter 23

The day was dark and cloudy. Its ominousness made the world empty and Sam and Dean drove along in silence.

Sam was absentmindedly doing the Times crossword they'd picked up at a Gas-N-Sip hours before. The next word pulled him out of autopilot. Somnambulism. Or, sleepwalking.

He shot a quick look at Dean in his periphery and noted how tired he looked. The past five months he'd spent, doing everything in his power to track down Kat. But, he was inconsolable, and no amount of killing monsters or roughing up Rowena's followers would mask the fact that he was sleepwalking through it all. He had the ideal image of finding her and everything going back to normal once they did; the closest to daydreams he'd ever had. But what would happen when they finally did? Who said she'd forgive and forget?

Sam worried for this brother as they crossed the lines into New Hampshire. They'd left Tennessee with their only credible lead. It was their only one in the seven months they'd spent moving throughout the country trying to follow her pattern.

They had begun by searching for omens, and going where they were because they knew Crowley was after Kat, and where she was, demons must be.

* * *

 _6 months ago_ _: Ohio_

 _A group of demons had made their home in an abandoned mall. The imagery of the place was absurd. The contents hadn't been fully vacated before its closure. This left signs dangling, due to half-finished construction and disregarded items in the stores. Clothes were strewn on the floor and broken gadgets gathered dust. There was absolutely nothing of value, which is why vandals had left them there._

 _Sam felt like the place should still be full. Seeing the dirt, grime, and little bit of plant life over-growing from pots seemed extremely out of place._

 _"No one's home," said Sam as they had finished scoping out what had been the food court. His gun lowered but his hands remained at attention, ready to spring it back up when necessary._

" _Well, we've gotta get them a house warming gift," said Dean. Normally, it would've been accompanied by a sly smile but he had compartmentalized his humor since Kat's departure._

" _Like what? We can't take out a large group of demons all at once, and if there is a ton of them we will be outnumbered," answered Sam, feeling desperate. This was the third nest of demons they'd come across, and each time they had little to no evidence of Kat being there, let alone where she was going._

 _The pair of them walked around for a few minutes aimlessly kicking stones, their minds churning._

 _Sam's sight happened upon a toy shop. The metal gates were half closed and he made his way over to them and got down on his hands and knees to enter. He gently touched a stuffed animal and opened a puzzle box. He was about to leave when he saw a jar of glass marbles._

" _Go grab some mannequins and clothes," he called out to Dean. His mind began puffing like a locomotive as he opened it and pulled out his knife. His idea was a long shot, but if it worked they'd leave with a significant number of demons dead._

" _What do you mean clothes?" Dean scoffed._

" _Stuff we would wear," Sam said, ignoring the protest in Dean's voice. He made his way to the register and grabbed some wiring that was poking out from under it._

" _This isn't the time for shopping Sam," Dean said impatiently._

" _Just_ _do it," Sam ordered. Dean made a face that said 'oh-excuse-me' but went anyway._

 _The two worked in silence as they roamed the mall looking for supplies. Dean returned with two very dirty mannequins, one of them missing an arm. Sam was hunched over the small Mason jar. He'd spent the last hour drawing devil's traps on the bag of chipped marbles with the tip of his knife._

 _Dean looked over Sam's shoulder. His face recognized what Sam was trying to do and he felt a swell of pride. "Demon shrapnel bomb. Sweet," he congratulated._

" _They'll be trapped, and their bodies will be destroyed. They won't be going anywhere," Sam elaborated as Dean hurried to set up the mannequins that would be playing them in the rouse._

" _You're a genius Sammy. I just have one more thing to add," he said, taking a can of spray paint out of his duffle. Onto the floor, he sprayed out the words Winchester – 1 and, Crowley – 0. Sam smirked as a shred of Dean's humor shone through. It may have been fueled by malice but at least, it was funny; not the vicious anger that had taken the place of Dean's wittiness._

 _They waited for the demons to return from whatever havoc they were wreaking. Sam hoped for the best and it was oddly satisfying as they watched the huge cloud of dust rise after the muffled boom. One outer wall, cracked a bit and the roof seemed to depress but the mall remained standing and no demons rushed out._

* * *

Present

They had left another pit stop with no concrete evidence towards Kat. The consolation that they'd taken some demons off her trail had to be enough to keep Dean's sanity.

Lately, though Sam had noticed him slipping. A month ago he had gone too hard interrogating a witch of Rowena's and broken her jaw. She'd choked on her own blood for five minutes before Sam got there. His actions were spinning into a downward spiral and everything leading up to the precipice was dark. Dark like Dean as a demon; something that reminded Sam of Dean after his time in Hell.

He knew that wasn't the person his brother was or was meant to be; which is why he'd encouraged him to seek alternative methods of finding Kat. Anything other than following demons around, really. The constant disappointment wasn't doing anything to quell Dean's aggression.

After months of living out of the Impala and motels, not returning to the bunker for fear of it being compromised after Dean's experience with mind control in Boston they were tired. They had Cas keeping an eye on it, as he devoted most of his energy trying to sense out Kat. It had been quiet, but Sam was willing to bet Dean's mental state would've been worse if they had spent even a second of their time sitting stagnant in the bunker.

Dean shifted in the driver's seat as he struggled to keep himself awake.

"I'll drive. You sleep," Sam commanded.

"No," Dean said, mustering up his reserve energy to bristle at the offer.

"Dean, go to sleep. By the time we get there you'll get a couple of hours."

He reluctantly agreed, pulling over to switch. Sam watched as he ruffled the map they were following of Kat's pattern before nodding off. Coming by the map had led them into the gray area of the supernatural and once again Sam was left wondering when they were truly desperate for an out, what weren't they willing to do?

* * *

 _One week previous_

 _Dean was pissed. The pair of them had driven all night out of Michigan after narrowly missing Kat. They'd lucked out on demons loudly, and stupidly, talking about where they thought she was. Dean knew they were wrong because he knew Kat. But it had helped them find where she actually had been hiding. That was until she realized there were demons in town._

 _The coffee pot in the motel room was still slightly warm when they arrived and she'd left the bed a heap of scratchy blankets._

 _Sam thought Dean was going to wreck the room. Instead, he stuffed it all down and went immediately back to the Impala waiting for Sam to go kill the demons back at the bar, then head out to the next place on their list._

 _So they found themselves in Tennessee. Sam exhausted, and Dean fuming, like a matador's bull._

 _They pulled up in front of a bar and as Sam got out he saw a faint marking on the pavement. It looked like a chalk outline of a body had been burned there._

" _Look at this, looks like a demon fizzed out here," Sam said shutting his door._

 _Dean came around to his side. "Yeah, I guess the omens were right, but who was hunting them. Maybe they'll have something to tell," he speculated, eyes brightening at the idea of another person to question._

" _First we've gotta find the mystery person. Let's ask inside." Sam started towards the door._

 _The two entered the bar using their badges as a greeting. The bartender shrewdly regarded them before putting his hands on the bar and giving them his attention, and an invitation to start talking. "Have any drifters come through lately?" Dean asked, directly._

" _I had a girl pass through here 'bout a week ago. Didn't stay long. Runnin' from an ex or something." The bartender shrugged._

 _"Was she about 5' 2"? Black, curly hair? …Pregnant?" Sam finished slowly, praying that the questions would continue on their winning streak. He felt Dean emanate hopefulness beside him and he couldn't stand the idea of crushing it._

" _Yup. She disappeared, though like I said a week ago," the bartender said again passively._

 _"Ok thanks for your time," Dean said. He turned and left immediately._

" _She was here dude. They're following her, and she knows it too. You think she's our mystery hunter? Idiots probably don't know she's gone and are still looking for doornail over there," he said all in one breath, pointing vaguely to the demon etched into the black top._

" _We need help, Dean. As much as I hate to admit it we need a high-power tracking spell or something. We're gonna keep getting all of this to go off of but just missing her like we've been "_

" _Cas doesn't have any more mojo up his sleeve than what we've tried. We can't ask Crowley. What do you suggest we do?" Dean said with more bite than he intended to. His anger at the situation had built up and manifested at Sam; the nearest target._

" _Hey don't snap at me Dean," Sam responded with as much force as Dean did. They silenced for a moment. Dean felt an immense debt to Sam. He'd stayed, dealing with his torpid mood swings and the least he could do was meet him halfway._

 _"I'm sorry. I just don't wanna be like dad dude. I don't want hunting to be the reason I'm not there for my kid." That was the most Dean had spoken about everything in the seven months._

 _"What about the nature god? Didn't say he say he didn't want Rowena in charge? I'm sure we've got a Celtic summoning spell somewhere in dad's journal. Maybe he's got something we haven't tried. He's a royal dick and I'd rather not deal, but like you said we've got nowhere else to go," Sam suggested in response. Dean smiled, thankful for his brother's patience._

 _The pair of them waited in a patch of forest they'd found. The spell had been easy enough to pull together which alleviated some of Dean's stress. Waiting in the forest for some omniscient creature to show, ran out with nostalgia. Like years ago when they'd just hunted and when they went rogue and worked in league with monsters, they'd done it in the cover of trees._

" _What's up bro's?" came a voice from behind the tree line. Cernunnos was the same as Dean remembered, a beanie covering his greasy mop of hair and his clothes hung off his lanky body. They were slightly dirty and he smelled of sea spray. He held a sign that read, "Save the Whales!" and its sentiment matched the surfer, druggie, lazy tone in his voice._

" _Star Trek fan?" Dean asked wryly, referencing the cardboard._

" _Very funny. I was leading a protest, I may have just sunk a whaling ship in Japan. It'll turn a few heads when they realize I disappeared from the ship." Cernunnos spoke with an air of unimportance, like the lives he ruined in defense of his various causes were of no consequence._

" _We need a tracking spell," Sam began._

" _You lost the girl didn't you? Please," he began, "take care of your pets. Animals matter too," he placed his hand on his heart and closed his eyes like he was affected by the statement emotionally._

" _Knock it off. We're serious. Is there any way you can track her," Sam said harshly, but kinder than Dean would have._

" _I mean, I can give the performer of the spell the ability to sense her residual energy through nature, that is if she's near any. It's obscure. Not 100% effective, I'm afraid… and not without its risks," Cernunnos said regretfully._

" _You sound like you're trying to sell contraceptives," Dean snorted at him._

 _"I know right, where was I seven months ago?" Cernunnos spat back at Dean maliciously._

 _Sam felt Dean restrain himself from attacking the contemptuous, entitled god. "What's the catch?" he stepped in._

" _The ingredients call for more than the average amount of blood," said Cernunnos focusing his attention back on Sam._

" _How much?" Dean asked impatiently._

 _"Enough to possibly hospitalize you, bro," he goaded, trying to rile Dean up again._

 _"One, I'm not your bro. Two, that's not an issue,"_

" _Dean, woah, think about it for a second." Sam counseled._

" _Sam we don't have any more time to waste. I'll do it and you'll be there to watch my back." Sam just nodded, compelled by his brother's authoritative air._

 _Dean swayed slightly as Cernunnos extracted the last of the blood. He had rapidly lost color but he remained standing._

 _There was a map laid out on the desk of a motel room and Cernunnos dumped herbs that Sam had never heard of into the pint glass full of Dean's blood. They'd stolen it from a local bar and this was by far the cheapest, back alley ritual they'd ever conducted._

 _Dean slumped into a seat and placed his head in his hand waiting for the results._

 _Sam watched with keen interest as Cernunnos muttered an incantation and spilled the blood over the map. Rather than spill out everywhere, it retained a shape and seemed to separate into little markers. Almost like the pins travelers stick to places they've been. The dots clustered around each of the small towns Sam and Dean had been to chasing demons, and a few they hadn't._

 _The pattern was clear from Kansas to Tennessee. The dots of blood vibrated with energy but hovered a half a centimeter off the page, leaving the map pristine. There was chaos once Sam followed the trail to the northeast. The bubbles ricocheted around as if trapped in an invisible box. They reverberated between New Hampshire and Maine. Not in clear, lines either. Each one acted of their own accord, flying around at random._

" _What does that mean?" Dean asked, standing to come to the map._

 _"It means she hasn't decided where she's going, or the spell can't decipher between where she is now and where she last released a burst of energy, like if she was in distress or something. But there you go, at least, you have her pattern. Now, if you'll excuse me I have a protest to return to." Cernunnos made to leave but something about the desolate look in Dean's eye pulled him back. "There seems to be more activity around Maine. Check there first. In repayment of this debt, you can hurry up and take care of Rowena for me. I'm tired of her wrathfulness disrupting my humanitarian exploits." And with that, he'd vanished._

* * *

Dean was dead asleep on the passenger side when Sam pulled into a motel in Maine. They'd been driving for hours and had hunted before that to boot.

Sam saw a young girl standing down about fifty feet from the Impala uncrossed her arms and straighten up. She walked towards them and Sam noticed how young she looked. The girl had to be fifteen but was tall, slender and womanly. Her hair was shaved short, only a half an inch off her head and the dark hue of her skin made her look like a shadow in the dark.

"Dean," Sam snapped, slapping him across the chest to wake him up. In that time, the girl had gotten much closer to the car and she only had to raise her voice slightly for them to hear her.

"You guy sure know how to think outside the box. Another seedy motel. Good one." The girl's deep, sultry voice came as a surprise to Sam. He didn't harbor on it and they raised their guns at her in a quarter of a second.

A moment passed and the two parties stared at each other. Dean slowly lowered his gun and Sam stole an incredulous glance at him. "Dude what the hell," he asked.

"I know her." Dean took a step forward in recognition. Remembering her large fawn eyes and pixie cut. She looked infinitely different from when he'd last seen her in Boston. She had changed from the black dress that must've been Rowena's standard issue, to green cargo pants and a Ramones t-shirt covered with a small leather jacket. However, the innocence remained, and Dean once again pitied her.

"Boston, yeah. Thanks for that by the way. Rowena's a real bitch with that mind control thing." The girl echoed Dean's thoughts, answering Sam's questioning glare. She did not have the hard edge to her voice, which he thought would come with her ensemble. She seemed regretful.

"Rowena has witches there against their will?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, she left senior members of the Grand Coven alive after she took over. They called us all to the tribunal saying it was a state of emergency. She was waiting when we got there." The girl's eyes held true loss and sorrow. She was a witch, and by all rights something they should hunt; she was also a teenager with very little choice.

"What so they called all the younglings to the Jedi temple and...?" Dean asked insensitively as he made a line across his throat with a flattened hand.

"That is correct, but I'm out now, thanks to that confusion your girlfriend caused." The girl spoke like she was pushing away a bad memory. "Sorry I slapped her by the way," she added. Her eyes held genuine shame at her actions. She wasn't a dark magic-hardened creature; evil at the core and Sam could see that.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Joni."

"Joni," Sam affirmed. "And you've been following us this whole time? Don't you have a family to get back to?" Sam broached.

"No, Rowena killed them in the Grand Coven execution. I'm a natural witch, so I wasn't exactly an active member of normal society, that means nobodies looking for me. We came from the faction in Shreveport, I use mostly voodoo. Herbal stuff you know. So I am here to tell you I can help. Gather information on Rowena and stuff, tell you what I know," she offered bravely.

"Ok," said Dean.

"She's smart, and it might seem hopeless but she's got fewer people on her side than you'd think. There are ways to fight the magic she's using. The magic I use comes from a different source, so they're equally matched." For the first time, the girl smiled a little. Her cheeks were full and round, only adding to her innocent look. "I was squatting in an old house and I found some stuff you might be interested in. I know there's no reason for you to trust me but if you do decide to come, I'll be at this address."

She held a foil gum wrapper aloft and then placed it on the hood of the car. Sam recoiled imperceptibly as she took a step forward because he was not shielded by the door as Dean was.

When she was gone, Sam turned to Dean who had his arms rested on the hood of the car. He saw the glimmer of hope that was barred by everything they'd encountered so far telling him this was a trap. But he knew he'd never be able to stop Dean from going because if it worked, he was one step closer to Kat.

They had called Cas for backup and the three of them didn't bother standing on ceremony and just opened the door to the dilapidated house.

Joni was sitting in the empty living room with a mug of steaming liquid next to her and a stack of small bones. She jumped when they entered and threw up her hands. Her eyes darted to the bones and back to them.

"They're from one of those rotisserie chickens I swear! Please don't shoot!"

Dean actually smiled as he took in her childish fear, "We didn't even have guns out," he said.

Joni laughed too, realizing her overzealous, ridiculous response. "Sorry, old habits die hard."

"A rotisserie chicken!" Sam burst out laughing.

The air was hopeful which is why he thought the band of misfits found it so easy to laugh. Despite not knowing each other the witch, hunters, and angel shared a brief moment of solace.

"I was trying to get some more info on this before you got here." She pushed a page of an atlas forward. There were scribbles on it. They highlighted the exact pattern Cernunnos' spell had. There were deep indents from the pressure of the pen she'd dragged over the south of Maine.

"Thank you for this," Dean said.

They'd left the young girl in Tennessee at her insistence, saying it was safer to stay as far away from them as she could. They couldn't argue.

"Dean, this could be another close call," Sam said cautiously.

"We'll just it to the list of disappointment if it is Sammy," Dean responded flatly. He wasn't paying Sam much attention, with his face buried in a laptop. He'd been skimming credit card records and cross referencing them with doctors all over the state.

"Ursula Andress," he breathed.

"Who?"

"Ursula Andress, that's her favorite Bond girl. That's the alias she used. I know it,"

"Where did she use the credit card?" Sam questioned as he jerked the wheel of the car to head towards the highway

"Beals Maine. I'm gonna call the office and see if they have a last known address." Dean jostled around in his pocket for his phone. Before he could fish it out Castiel appeared in the back seat. They hadn't realized he was gone until the fluttering of wings filled the silence.

"There's no need," he started. "She is there."

"How do you know?" Dean asked.

"The child is not warded against angels like Katherine is, once I got close enough to her approximate location, I could feel its soul. She is in an abandoned church," he finished.

"Hallowed ground. Smart," Sam said as he pressed further down on the gas.

Dean had spent the last six months living a life he thought he had left behind. He'd grown in the ten years since he'd gotten Sam from Stanford.

At that time, he had been stagnant but believed himself to be liberated from his responsibilities. He believed himself to be full grown and incapable of becoming anything more than he was in that moment.

Life had shown him that there were people that could continue to mold him. He resisted the change but those ten years had translated into another kind of adulthood for him.

He'd spent life always on the run. Not away from, but towards somewhere, something, or someone. The whole time it had been towards her.

The cliché infuriated him. It was all so expected.

He raised his hand to knock, his chest tight. Before he made contact with the wood, the door flew open. The fist he'd extended halfway to the door was caught in an iron grip. He remembered the soft but strong feel of Kat's hand as she thrust his arm behind his back.

Sam had hung back but when he saw the commotion he came running.

"Woah!" Sam cautioned. He simultaneously reached to pull Dean out of Kat's grasp.

She looked at him in the dim light and recognition dawned on her face. She hadn't changed in the months he hadn't seen her. Just that the lines on her face were harder, a symptom of always watching her back.

"Shit," she muttered.

* * *

 **A/N: Next chapter will bring the gang back together again. I hope that this wasn't too slow of a chapter for everyone, and that it wasn't redundant. I love reconciliations because I love seeing which way the affected parties will take the drive of the scene. Reviews would make my world go round because at this point I'm floatin' around accidental-like on a breeze. -Kelly**


	24. Chapter 24

Kat stood opposite the two men. She balanced her weight awkwardly, trying to straighten herself up to seem commanding. It wasn't working out well, considering her swollen abdomen seemed to weigh as much as she did.

"Where have you been?" Dean demanded.

"Three steps ahead of you. And getting tracked down by every wayward witch and demon along the way," Kat snapped.

"Crowley," Sam said, interjecting in the fast-paced and heated conversation.

"Yeah, hence the abandoned church…hallowed ground," she said turning to Sam, a little more kindness in her voice.

"Wouldn't have been necessary if you just stayed with us," Dean spoke again. Sam rolled his eyes, knowing the by fighting her harder, Kat was not going to be willing to even talk to him.

"How _did_ you find me?"

"Ursula Andress. Next time choose an alias I wouldn't know." Dean glared at her and she glared back.

"Oh please, how did you even know where to start weeding through credit card applications for?"

"Cas. The…baby isn't cloaked. It took a while but once we were on your trail he was able to sense its soul," Dean softened visibly when referencing the child who was caught in their crossfire. He was too angry at her to keep their exploits in the long month's secret, but too in love with her to cause her any more pain. He looked at her, reacquainting himself with her very angry face feeling like he couldn't help but be happy in her line of fire.

The air was augmented with passion. The fight was justified, yet obligatory. All they wanted was each other the way they had been; to pretend all of it never happened, but their pride forbade it.

"Ooh, thinking outside the box," she sneered.

"Alright enough with the attitude. We wouldn't have had to if you hadn't run in the first place." Dean's patience was waning.

" _Me_ , run?" Kat roared. "Oh, that's hilarious. I seem to recall you doing an about face and _literally_ running away from me, and Sam. Who was pretty worse for wear, I might add. Lucky Cas was there or I would've had to hoist him over my shoulder and get him to a hospital," she said accusingly.

Sam visibly shrunk when the attention was turned to him. Dean looked at Sam betrayal in his eyes. Sam hadn't told Dean that the clanking he'd heard back in Boston was a metal staff smashing down on his wrist. It had probably been broken, but Cas fixed it. In her anger, Kat made the aftermath of Boston infinitely more dramatic. That spitefulness made Sam angry and he wanted to protect his brother. He knew he should leave them to it and that after six months of pent up aggression, Dean didn't need it.

"Rowena had been force feeding me some ass-tasting cocktail and I couldn't control myself. You've been a witches puppet, I think you 'd be a little more sympathetic," Dean quipped back.

Kat's face softened at his explanation. It was the last thing Sam saw as he backed out into the cold air. "You still left, and took your sweet time getting back,"

"And it's something I'm not proud of, but I don't think you're the person who should be making that distinction."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"You've run away, or disappeared, more times than any one in my life," Dean confessed, stowing away the pain that flickered behind his eyes.

Kat scoffed, "It's what I do Dean. I don't make connections. I run far away from anything that requires more than I'm willing to give. And you took the most," Kat threw her hand out in emphasis, gesturing vaguely towards her protruding stomach, and continued. "The most that I could give anyone. And I wasn't going to run, but you did."

"And I regret it. Even though I was Rowena's puppet, I blame myself." Dean attempted to open up to her with the confession, instead, she turned it on its head like she always did; he couldn't help but love her for it. That also didn't stop him being wildly angry.

"You can't always play the martyr Winchester. You can't be a tortured soldier who gets a pardon because of how torn up he is over it. You still did it. I'm not willing to forgive,"

"I'm not forgiving you either Kat. You…you put that child in the most danger it could be in. You didn't take anything with you for protection, you had no money, and no one knew where you were. If you'd seen the things that were following you, you'd know that by leaving you just about signed your own death warrant," Dean growled.

Kat lifts up her sleeve to show a pink scar on her forearm; a defensive wound. "I do know what was following me. I survived," she said with a fatal finality. It wasn't the worst of the cuts and scrapes she'd had over their months apart. Once she'd gone to the ER because her head wouldn't stop bleeding. She'd had to escape because the nurse was going to call the police, and Kat couldn't have that. What may have been more traumatizing was the never ending exhaustion. Never being able to fully close her eyes without wishing that there was a way to hide. A way to hide from everything that was after her, and what was to come.

* * *

Tennessee

 _"Night John," Kat bade farewell to the owner of the small dive she had found refuge in for the last two months. The air was getting more brisk and she pulled her jacket tighter over her growing belly. She made her way to her car under the safety of the street lamp. There we some surrounding businesses and the place where she was squatting was a two minute car ride away._

" _How lucky am I to be the one that's found you, the King will be so pleased," came a bemused voice from behind her._

 _Kat froze and steeled her body against attack. Her forearm moved against her stomach to protect the child. "Yeah, I'd heard he wants a piece of this." Kat turned to face her enemy. "I'd be careful though, others have tried, they're never quite strong enough," she taunted._

" _A lesser demon might balk at the threat, but I am a son of the corrupt. I think I can handle the son of the righteous." The demon lunged at Kat before he even finished his sentence. Immediately, the arm Kat had left tensed and prepared by her side flew up to protect her from the knife The blade that came plummeting down from above, made contact with the skin of her forearm. Kat used her other arm to pull out the flask of holy water she kept on her and sprayed the demon's exposed skin with it The demon stumbled backward; hissing and writhing against the pain._

 _"So Crowley sent you?" Kat advanced spraying him again. Holy water she'd found, had a much more profound effect on the demons she'd met than books would have her believe. Even without being bound by a devil's trap it rendered them incapacitated. The demon yelped again. "Thaaaaaat's it. Cry like a bitch. Now tell me who sent you."_

" _Crowley."_

" _Good hell-bitch…" Kat elongated the word 'good' as she dragged her knife along it's stolen body. "Now why does this holy water hurt so much?" she demanded as she sprinkled more on the crotch area of the demons black slacks. It began eating away at the fabric and sizzling. He screamed._

 _"The child. Something about the child, no one knows for sure but Rowena is pissed that it's this powerful. And Crowley wants it dead before she can take that power," it whimpered._

" _You first," said Kat as she bent down and stabbed him in the forehead with the demon blade. She always kept stashed under and article of clothing. The demon flamed out and she stood, exhaling, and reaching for her inhaler. She patted her stomach lovingly and said very shakily, "Lots of commotion about you baby. Guess it's time to move on from here." She opened the driver's door. "I think I'd like some ice cream first, hmm? Sound good?" she spoke to the little person inside her. She_ _was struck with a pang of bittersweet in her chest. The thought of ice cream resurfaced the thought of Dean._

* * *

Maine: Present

At the end of her story, Dean exploded, "None of that would've happened if you'd just let us protect you. Hell, just Sam if you were that pissed at me. Why can't you just admit that what you did was reckless?!"

"Because it wasn't at the time. It was in both mine and the baby's best interest to distance myself from you.

"How does that make sense?!"

"Because while all those monsters and creatures were following you around, thinking that you knew where I was, or were hiding me, or even that I was with you, I got a good night's sleep for those few weeks!"

"The thought of you barely scraping by scares the hell out of me. Scares me more than the idea of a damn baby," yelled Dean.

Kat laughed, dripping with contempt, "You're scared Dean?! The last time I so much as babysat I was fourteen, had braces, and snuck the neighbor kid named Robby over so we could make out on the couch. Is that was you suggest we do? Discover our bodies like teenagers while the baby makes itself dinner? I don't know how to do this. I haven't even been able to come to terms with the idea, that along with the supernatural I'm going to have to deal with the normal aspects of raising a child. I'm terrified! I have been for months and you just mosey on in here and think that's reason enough for me to accept you into its life?! I can't even look at you without seeing potential abandonment!" Kat regretted it as soon as she'd said it. She knew Dean's spotty relationship with his father and the look in his eyes told her she'd gone too far.

Dean's eyes might as well have gone as black as a demons as he turned and landed a punch into the thin sheet rock, leaving a hole in the wall. It probably broke one of his knuckles but he didn't stop using the hand to reach for the the door and fling it open. He walked out into the night past Sam and towards the Impala, kicking the ground sending debris flying every which way in his anger.

Sam stood and went into the room where he saw Kat, leaning on the counter for support. She had spent all her energy fighting with Dean and putting on a brave face drained her more than she'd care to admit, Sam saw that.

"Hey, that wasn't cool," he said

"Oh, is this the 80's movie pep talk? We're going there?" she spat through heavy breaths.

"No. we're not. And cut the tough-guy attitude with me. You can lash out at him all you want, he deserves it, and he's said he does. But don't beat him down. You know he's done it all himself," Sam counseled sternly.

"As I said before, his self-loathing does not absolve him."

"No, it doesn't," he looked at her for a moment and waited for her to straighten up and make eye contact. When she didn't, he took a step forward "You ok?"

Kat placed her cool hand on her forehead covering her eyes so that Sam could only see the tip of her nose and her mouth. "I'm fine. It just won't stop kicking. I don't think it's used to all the noise," Kat said as he removed her hand and looked at Sam.

He was eyeing her quizzically as if he was highly intrigued by something. "What?" Kat asked

He waited a moment before responding; as if he was nervous about the answer he'd receive or how Kat would react to his curiosity. "Can I feel it?" Sam asked somewhat sheepishly.

Kat smiled for the first time since seeing them both and stood up to reveal her full girth. "Sure," she said. She grabbed his hands that were as rough and calloused as she remembered Dean's to be and placed the palm open on the right side of her stomach. First there was a soft pat that Kat almost didn't feel but immediately after, a strong thump ensued.

Sam grinned broadly and huffed in amazement. "This is really happening, huh?"

"So they keep telling me." Kat looked up and down and let go of his hand. "You didn't just come in here to scold me and feel me up. Say what you have to," she continued half-joking.

Sam took a deep breath and stood back, "I thought for a long time that I was the one of us that was meant for a family. Dean was always a hunter, he couldn't be told otherwise and I sure as hell couldn't control him. When he came and got me at school I resented him for a long time because I thought he'd brought me back into the life that was the exact opposite of what a family needed,"

"Ok, how is this helping his case?" Kat asked through sharp eyes.

"Just—" he held up a hand to signal patience, "After Jess died I gave up and just started looking up to Dean again. It's because of that, I noticed that it was really Dean who was meant for a family." This statement warmed Kat's heart even though she didn't mean for it to. Every part of her wanted to accept Dean back because she knew deep down she didn't want to do this alone; more than that he was the only person she'd ever wanted to go on this adventure with. Sam continued, "he raised me. Not only that, he takes everyone and everything we come across under his wing. He doesn't even know he does it," he smiled fondly, "Which is why I think it took him so long, but in the end he always comes back."

"But how can you build a life off of that? Someone with so little faith in themselves that as soon as anything gets hard they disappear?"

"It was the surprise of it. He may disappear to a bar once in a while but, something tells me so would you," Sam countered.

"But he did leave. How do we come back from that?"

"Up to you. Just know that he's in this," Sam said resolutely.

"Ok," Kat accepted. "I have to pee," she stated matter-of-factly. She started to walk away down the small hallway. "There's no beer, sorry," she stopped, "There's no anything actually, I've really just been craving grapefruit juice…so that's it. There is food though, so make yourself at home I guess. See if he'll come back in," she turned her back and continued waddling down the hall.

Kat took her time and when she exited the bathroom she heard the two of them mumbling in the den. She was suddenly scared to actually talk to Dean without reverting back to towards her destructive comments. She stopped in the small room which she'd made her own, that had probably once belonged to a priest. She ran her hands through her hair and searched for an elastic to tie it up in a tall, bouncy ponytail on top her head. She'd just resigned herself to go back out when a firm rap sounded at her door.

Dean waited a moment before entering, but not long enough for Kat to respond to it. Like he was going explode if he didn't get out the words he was holding on to.

"I'm not going anywhere," he started.

"That's a first," Kat said the words before she could lock them away and she instantly hated herself.

"I'm trying here. The least you could do is give an inch," he growled defensively.

"Sorry," she searched for a moment to think of something that might bridge the gap between them, "I have…uh, a sonogram. If you're into that sort of thing. I don't know do dudes care about that stuff?"

"We can't just rely on that to fix things,"

"Wait, I'm sorry, we can't rely on the baby to be the thing that brings us back to each other?"

"I think we need to do that ourselves,"

"What if I don't know how to look at you now, without knowing how you'll be with the baby,"

"I don't know to trust you either Kat, don't forget that," he said viciously.

"This is getting us nowhere. Right now I feel like we were just…vacationing in each other's lives. Like we got thrown together by circumstance but once the danger is passed we'll have to learn how to function without it…and I don't know if we can," Kat said exasperatedly.

"Yeah, maybe we don't actually matter to each other," Dean spat in response. Kat froze and deep in Dean's eyes she thought she saw immense regret; that or she was imagining her ideal scenario.

"I don't care if I don't matter," Kat stifled a sob, "But don't you put that on this child." She turned away busying her hands with simple folding that didn't really need to be redone. "Despite all of this, I still was normal. I just want to breathe easy," she confessed.

"Yeah well, normal is relative."

"Stop it. You don't get to brush my opinions aside like you do Sam. You're not in charge here. This kid makes us symbiotic, and that's what you don't seem to understand." Dean stared at her like he didn't have any intention of listening to her point of view. "Just leave Dean," Kat said hopelessly.

"You're crazy if you think I'm leaving the baby. Like I said, I'm not going anywhere," Dean reasserted.

"You and Sam can fight for the couch then," Kat spat as she threw an ancient looking afghan at him.

Dean had burst out of the room in a fit of rage like Sam had never seen. He thrust the blanket on the couch and went out the side door that lead to the chapel, pews still intact but dusty and devoid of any presence. There is an overwhelming sense of something greater when stepping foot into a church but here, there was none. Other than the invisible protection of hallowed ground, which was company enough for Dean.

Sam felt out of place. He'd done all he could, talking to Kat. He saw both sides of the equation, and he couldn't tell either of them that he did. He went to the fridge and grabbed some water and a pear. He explored the small living quarters of the church, opening door that lead to a coat closet, a bathroom, and a small room that he surmised may have been a study. He went inside wanting to give Kat and Dean the freedom of the house to have this out. Inside the room there was, a few boxes, a stack of books and blankets.

He laid out a bed for himself and picked up one of the books.

* * *

Kat crept silently down the hall. She picked up a magnet—one that she had been using to post her findings on omens—and put up the sonogram. She looked for a moment at the small creature pictured and went back to bed.

Kat woke, like she did every night, to a pulsing sensation in her bladder. She routinely stood, forgetting the night events, everything beyond her basic needs. She opened the door to her room and crept down the hall. As she passed the opening to the kitchen and makeshift den area she'd made for herself. Dean lay sprawled out on the couch. Just like the first knight they'd spent in each other's company. His mouth, which had seen a hundred women, and spoke a hundred words—including those most hurtful to Kat earlier—were parted a centimeter allowing breath to flow in and out. His face this time did not hold innocence, but fretfulness. This was the factor that allowed Kat to know that she had not walked into a dream. She hurried to the bathroom, unaware that a single rebellious tear had fallen until she looked in the mirror. She wiped it away angrily and tiptoed back to her room.

Always a light sleeper, Dean stirred, but didn't wake until Kat had closed the door. He lay there looking at it for a moment. The lights flickered on and created a horizon under the door. He stood and leaned his head on the door frame. While listening to Kat without her knowledge he felt a surge of emotion.

" _Come on kid, go to sleep. You're annoying the crap out of me,"_ she said lovingly. A minute passed by in silence, except for the occasional creak of the floorboards that signaled Kat's pacing.

Then, Dean heard the plucking melody of a guitar. Bob Dylan. He'd realized he'd missed Bob Dylan too. The sound of the guitar always escaping from random rooms in the bunker as Kat journeyed to find the best acoustics and how Dean had to hunt to find her.

" _So it's fare thee well, my darlin' true. I'm leaving in the first hour of the morn,"_ she sang softly. Dean felt a magnetic pull through the door, but if he were to reach out to her, would it even be enough?. This was not then. He had found her, but the situation was entirely opposite. She was not playing for him to find her, out of joy and love. She was playing so be consoled of what he'd done.

" _So it's fair thee well, my own true love, we'll meet another day, another time. It ain't the leaving that's aggrieving me, but my true love who's bound to stay behind,"_ Kat finished. The chorus hung there for a moment.

The two of them sat on opposite sides of a wall in the same state of anguish. It was like a cross-section. Dean's head and shoulder leaned against the door frame, thumb hooked around his belt loop. Kat sat on the edge of the bed, facing it. Her head hunched over the guitar which was pressed hard against her stomach. She inhaled the notes as they disappeared into the air.

Dean burst through the door, shattering their separate cages and Kat jumped, and immediately setting the guitar aside.

"This is all way above my pay grade. I know I screwed up, but I wanna spend the rest of my life making it up to you guys," Dean explained as he went to her.

His hand brushed past her stomach and he felt electricity run through him. It took a certain degree of courage for him to leave it there, as he reached his other hand to gently touch her chin. As his lips came into contact with her forehead. Kat could feel all the words—good nights, good mornings, and shut-up's—pouring into her head by just that kiss and she accepted now, fully and for real that she missed him more than she'd allowed even herself to believe.

She tasted the silent tears that had begun falling. "I don't know why I'm crying, I'm too mad at you to cry," she laughed.

"Yeah, stop being such a girl," Dean said reviving the irreverence that Kat held most dear. It was like nothing had changed and she was with him at the bunker, their room.

"I stayed gone because I knew that I'd always have him, and you'd always have Sam and Cas. That way we'd never really be alone," sobbed Kat. She scooted closer to Dean hoping he'd accept her.

"That's ok. I'm still mad about that, but you're good now," he comforted as he pulled her closer, resting her head on his shoulder. His cheek was flattened against her forehead. "Wait… _him_ …?" he asked tentatively as he pulled back to look at Kat.

"Yeah…" she said elatedly. Dean pressed his lips ungraciously against hers and Kat returned his fervor. Emotion overruling politeness as they understood each other again. "I'm glad you're here," she said breathily.

"I'll be wherever you are," Dean replied. "You never stopped mattering to me," he finished.

"I tried so hard and I could never stop thinking of what were you doing. What asinine, perfect, love-worthy thing could you be doing?" Kat laughed as she asked the question rhetorically.

Dean ran his hands over her changed form, reacquainting himself with her body. They kissed and it was like the first time they'd met, almost a year ago now. Like the immediacy of closeness and how they felt like they never wanted to separate. And they had; they had separated. Most of their grasping and soft touches was regaining some of that time.

"All I could think of, is that it was too damn quiet. I missed my headache," Dean said laughing back at her, and putting his arms under Kat's shoulders and guiding her onto his lap. She straddled his legs and her stomach sank onto his thighs. He smiled at it and touched it lovingly.

They had never been anything but casual. The depth of what they felt for each other was nothing other than felt. It flew between them like energy flows through a Newton's Cradle. But now in this moment, everything felt like they'd pressed the pause button on a VCR. The frame frozen in time, but a ripple of energy running through it on a loop. That was their emotion.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope that the flashbacks and timeline of this chapter was easy enough to understand. Let me know if it wasn't, because I'm going to start deviating some viewpoints and adding a couple of simultaneous scenes and so forth, in the next few chapters. As always, I'd love to hear what you have to say. -Kelly**


	25. Chapter 25

Dean rolled over on the bed and forget where he was. He saw the wood paneling on the wall and felt a chill run through him and he realized the space next to him was vacant but still warm.

He got up and went to the kitchen. It really just consisted of an inlet in the wall, a foot of counter space a stove and fridge, which probably hadn't been updated since 1953. It somehow managed to be very Kat. A percolator coffee pot sat on the stove releasing a steam. Dean froze for a moment as a dark spot on the refrigerator caught his eye. It was a glossy photograph and inside the amorphous darkness was the face of his kid.

He stared at it for a moment and cocked his head to the side. The realness of the situation crashed down on him. He reached up to gently touch the photo as if it would connect Dean to him somehow, but quickly recoiled, poured himself a cup of coffee and made his way outside.

He walked a few minutes towards the sound of crashing ocean waves in the damp morning air. Kat sat thirty feet away, a large bumpy blanket around her shoulders. His rib cage swelled with an unnameable intensity as he looked at her.

"Should you be wandering around on your own?" Dean called.

"I've been 'wandering around on my own' for seven months Dean." A smile wormed its way into her voice.

"What have you been doing for those months anyway? I can't see you just sitting around…laying low," he teased as he approached.

"I taught myself how to crochet, so that's cool," Kat shrugged as he sat down. She kept looking eagerly out in front of her.

"Sexy," Dean joked. He sat flush to Kat but he moved slowly as if he was approaching a wounded animal. She didn't move away so he ducked and leaned his head into her neck, placing a soft kiss there. His forehead rested on her jaw line and his chin sat on her shoulder. She timidly leaned into him as she spoke.

"Yeah, they said my blood pressure was too high and that sometimes a tedious hobby helps even it out if you're feeling stressed. I made a scarf," she explained casually.

"Are you okay? Isn't that bad for babies or something?"

"It's better now," she shrugged, "I also bought a camera. Don't know what for but I figured people with babies have cameras. But I've really eonly taken pictures of them." Kat lifted the modest digital camera and fiddled with its zoom. She aimed at something Dean couldn't yet see, and he lifted his head to look closer.

"Wha—?" he began, but then he saw them. A large fox had snuck out of a patch of reeds and behind her to smaller ones followed. They were timid at first, wary of their surroundings but then the siblings began play fighting and rustling around kicking up sand as their mother watched.

Kat raised the camera and started snapping pictures. "Aren't they cool? So out of place on a beach,"

"Yeah," Dean said enthralled. "So hey, listen," he continued over the sound of the shutter, "I know that this is not normal, by any means. I was raised on the road, building guns. I don't know what in the hell the point of little league is and I will definitely not have anything to contribute to the science fair other than backwoods spellwork. I'm not father material, but I, uh, can try if you want that," Dean said gruffly.

Kat looked at him for the first time and cackled at him. Her laughter was probably hideous to anyone else but Dean was just happy he'd been able to make her laugh at all.

"Let's…never do that?" Kat said incredulously. "Dude, our kid can play bass guitar and make out under the bleachers. He should know how to build guns because that's awesome. I don't think I was meant for normal. I was meant for Winchester weird," she said with confidence.

Dean beamed at her. "So no Wonder bread pb&j?" He said falsely downtrodden.

"Nah, Rebels eat…ricotta on pumpernickel," she said returning to her camera for a second. "Speaking of food, I'm in the mood for breakfast. There's a diner up the road…they have pie…." She looked at him sideways, slyly.

* * *

"I am not eating that. I am not eating apple pie with cheddar cheese on the top. That's…un-american." Dean turned his nose up in disgust as the waitress walked away after placing the steaming plate down in front of him.

"Do it, or I'll do something ridiculous to embarrass you," Kat challenged with a malicious gleam in her eyes. She smiled devilishly as Dean lifted the fork, staring her down intently the whole time.

Kat's smile got wider as he chewed. "Alright. I can't even pretend I don't like this," he conceded.

Kat then grabbed her own fork and started picking at the crust like a chicken with its feed. Dean continued to inhale the slice.

"So I think there's a case here. Well, I know there's a case here because witches have been catching up to me for a few months now. So, there's always something which is why I wouldn't stay somewhere for more than two weeks," she explained through a mouthful of pie.

"So what changed?"

"Well, there is one coven that I know of, they set up shop in a florist's downtown."

"Rowena's been mind controlling witches and sending them around looking for you. We've been taking them out, throwing them off your trail and stuff," he explained.

"Well, thanks for that. But this time, it's different. It's not just the witches that are dying. A few civilians too, they weren't like normal Winchester kills either—"

"Winchester kills? Seriously?"

"Shut up. The coroner said they had massive decomp. Like they'd been dead and buried for fifty years but they'd only died hours before."

"Sounds like our kind of deal," Dean agreed.

"So the people, I get but, I mean the witches? They're bent on killing me, I might add. Why are you gonna save them?"

"Because not all of them deserve it,"

"Ok." Kat saw in his eyes that this was something he'd thought on and she trusted him wholly.

"First things first I guess, I'll check the flower shop and you and Sam research." Dean delegated, but it took a lot for him to think about not being able to be within ten feet of Kat. After months of looking, they'd finally found her. But Dean understood the fragility of it, and he had grown. He knew that he couldn't force her to stay. She stayed because she chose to; because she loved him enough to.

Sam and Kat sat on the outdated couch they'd bought at a thrift store hours earlier. Before they dug into research they'd realized there was only one chair in Kat's little apartment. So, they bought a small couch and a large backed TV from 1993.

They justified this because staying in Maine, unnoticed was safer than returning to the bunker. Cas had called to tell them he'd found multiple patches of Fomori sprouting around parts of Kansas.

The hallowed ground would keep them safe enough, and here they'd be able to step outside without the threat of being looked for.

It was hard, for Dean to revert to the nomadic lifestyle. He'd adjusted so easily to having a home and hurried about making it one that the instability of having it possibly compromised was going to be an adjustment for sure.

It was temporary. But, Sam and Kat enjoyed themselves by picking out the ugliest couch in the thrift store they could find, because if there is one thing they were going to do, it was make the best of their situation.

They had broken out the books and laptops and settled into a pseudo-normal routine when Dean opened the door.

They were sitting mouths agape watching a female praying mantis devour a male. Sometime while he'd been gone, they'd become distracted by basic cable and settled on the animal channel. Sam's hand was spread out on the couch, like he was reaching out for moral support and Kat's was clutched to his shoulder pure disgust and horror etched on her face. A serene voice came through the crackly speakers.

 _"Usually, the male will ply the female with food beforehand, to distract her. This male was not so lucky."_

"What'd he do?" asked Dean tentatively.

"He tried to knock her up," Kat said as she turned around to face him. "Dangerous business…" she smirked as she raised her eyebrows.

Sam laughed loudly at Dean's expense.

"Well in that case…" he threw the beat up looking collection of sunflowers he was holding, onto Kat's lap.

"That is just so, so, sweet of you darling. How kind of you to go out of your way to think of me," she said dripping with sarcasm. Dean knew she appreciated them all the same.

"Well I had to buy something otherwise they would've gotten suspicious. Good news is, they have no idea we're here."

Kat chose not to call Dean out on the fact that he'd chosen her favorite flower.

"And how'd it go?" asked Sam as he pulled himself from the screen.

"Well, they don't just sell carnations, I'll tell ya that. Serious spellwork stuff. Yarrow, St. John's Wort, Thistle, Rowen berries…" he listed.

"Well, we found a legend that might be our creature. Definitely, something that Rowena would want to use to her advantage," Sam supplemented.

"But why is she killing her own people?" Kat jumped in.

"Don't know, maybe insubordinance? A weird punishment thing?" suggested Sam.

"Maybe, what's the monster?" Dean directed.

"It's called a Gancanagh. It disguises itself as a man and secretes like love potion from its skin, makes women think they've fallen in love with him and then he leaves. When they don't have the toxin anymore, they literally sit and pine for him until they wither away, which would explain the decomposition. Some women were even known to fight to the death over him," said Kat.

"But get this, all the vic's had the same 'boyfriend'. Or so say their family and friends. Guy named Yates McKee. He teaches art history at a university a little while away," Sam added. Kat looked at Dean hintingly.

"No, no, no wait," he began.

"You can't come, it'll look suspicious. You'll wait in the car and I'll just meet with him over something completely unrelated, Degas, or whatever. See if I can grab any info from him. Technically I'm still a Ph.D. candidate so I can fake it." Kat's ardor was incredibly convincing.

Dean just sighed knowing he would never be able to dissuade her.

* * *

Kat had made it through the meeting with Yates McKee without fumbling too much over technicalities. She'd been charming enough as she had glossed over the fake thesis and vague enough as she referenced the little she knew about the intricacies of French Impressionism.

Yates McKee was charming too. He wasn't blindingly attractive, a shaved head with pressed khakis, wire-rimmed glasses and sweater vest shouldn't have been alluring but he somehow made it that way. He was smooth, kind, and highly intelligent and Kat didn't trust it for a moment.

It was everything that the Gancanagh was supposed to be. She'd been visually searching the office for anything out of the ordinary. There were stacks of books and posters of art, obviously, but the only one she saw that was in any way related was a book on Celtic cave drawings.

"Professor McKee—"

"Call me Yates, please."

"Yates," Kat smiled sweetly, "To be quite honest the reason I was drawn here is because I read your piece about the physicality and discipline of his dancers. I would like to focus my thesis on Degas' vantage points. Would you happen to have an uncut draft of the article that I could credit in my paper?" Kat crossed her arms demurely over her lap and smiled expectantly.

"I thought you'd never ask. I believe I have a hard copy in my files in the front office. Excuse me," he said as he stood and crossed to the door.

As soon as it closed Kat started rifling through the papers on the desk. His phone slipped from between the manila folders and she snatched it up, thanking whatever benevolent higher power watching her that it didn't have a passcode.

Her thumb deftly went to the message button and she flicked towards the bottom. There, were five text boxes that were headed by the names of each of the victims. Her breath quickened as she clicked on them individually. Her heart thumped louder as each conversation led to the same address, seemingly his apartment. Kat knew that the girls had never made it there and each was found along the road.

The realization had Kat's hackles raised and she almost jumped out of the seat as the phone vibrated in her hands. It was a new text, from a girl named Katie.

It read, _'Can't wait to see you later tonight! Send me your address when you can!'_

Kat knew that this girl was bound to the same fate as the others, but this time, Sam and Dean would be waiting.

She had just placed the phone back in its exact place when the door handle clicked behind her.

She stood uneasily to her feet, her stomach throwing her off balance for a moment. Yates' hand settled under her elbow steadying her. When she turned to look at him she was met with a serene smile.

"Thank you so much for this invaluable information, I won't take up any more of your time."

He continued smiling blithely and held the door for Kat as she left.

A familiar voice met him when it closed.

"You did well Yates," said the man named Crowley.

"You didn't tell me she was pregnant," Yates said bitingly.

"You didn't bat an eye at killing innocent twenty-somethings just to get the Winchester's attention did you? You wanted out of your deal, this is how you get it," Crowley responded with even more venom. "I expect you at 9:00 sharp tonight, McKee. Don't be late."

He disappeared, leaving Yates in silence. He reached for a crystal decanter he kept on his desk. Pouring himself a healthy glass he sipped; wondering with each one how he could have become such a jaded and selfish individual. Turmoil rushed into him as he drank. He wondered, if he were to be saved from Hell, how he could continue living.

* * *

Kat had relayed her info onto Sam and Dean. It was not a question of whether or not they were going to hunt the monster, it was how they would. They had resigned to call Cas for backup and he would go with Dean to the stretch of road where all the victims were found, in an attempt to stop her from meeting with him. They would take the girls car and go to his house and take him out by surprise. Sam would stay with Kat.

The plan was simple enough, but if they'd learn anything it was that nothing ever went as planned and they were essentially waiting for a twist of the knife.

Dean went outside to greet Cas and Kat was fiddling with the radio.

"How'd you even find this place?" Sam said, trying to make conversation.

"You'd be surprised how many abandoned churches there are in the country," Kat said.

"It's certainly something to be said about theology," Kat laughed.

"It is good to see you again Katherine. It is strange that I am saying goodbye as I say hello," Cas said.

"Hello, goodbye," Kat retorted, clutching him into a short hug. He vanished seconds later leaving her alone with Dean as Sam went to put extra munitions in the trunk, stifling a chuckle.

"Don't do anything stupid," Kat admonished.

"Me? Never," Dean smiled confidently and kissed her on the forehead. He pulled away with the same force that he would a magnet; he didn't look back. Immediately, he went outside and immediately went to the river's side. He glanced back at his brother,

"I'm trusting you, Sammy," Dean declared, making eye contact.

"I'll keep her safe Dean." Sam came back with an affirmation, one that Dean didn't ignore.

* * *

An hour had gone by and Dean and Cas had seen nothing on the road back and forth towards Yates McKee's apartment. As they turned around, a white pattern appeared on the highway. The Impala skidded to a halt and they stepped out hesitantly, a gun raised. The pattern became clearer with each step. It said: Crowley – 2 Winchester – 1.

"Crowley, 2? How does he have two?" Dean asked, frustrated.

A man emerged from the tree line, holding a very frightened looking woman by the scruff of her neck. She was pretty even with tears streaming down her face.

"Help! Help me!" she called out to them. It couldn't be heard through the Impala's roar as the brakes screeched to a halt in front of the pair of them. In a swift movement, Dean jumped from the car and stepped forward, but the man (who he could only assume was the Gancanagh) lifted a knife to her throat and made a tsk sound.

Cas had disappeared from the front seat and Dean hoped he had something up his sleeve so this could be over with little to no bloodshed.

"Let her go!" Dean commanded. He placed one foot in front of him and braced himself against attack.

"I don't think so Winchester." The man's eyes flashed black and Dean's muscles tensed harder against the threat before him.

"So this is a trap? Let me guess, there is no Gancanagh?" Dean asked, keeping the demon's attention on him.

"Crowley decided to kill two birds with one stone tonight. I got the lucky job of watching the prize fight go down," the demon barked.

"Lucky, huh?" said Dean pointing behind them with his gun.

The demon held onto the girl but craned his neck just in time to see Castiel reach out his hand and place it on his forehead. The girl shrieked as the demon exploded and the body crumpled to the ground. She started to run away but Cas made it to her first and mimicked his motion, this time, placing her in a deep sleep. He brought her to the Impala and placed her in the back seat.

"Son of a bitch said we're expecting company. We've gotta get her out of here," Dean barked jumping back into the front seat.

"It seems none of us are going anywhere Dean," said Rowena.

She had appeared in the second it took for him to open his car door. Dean's skin crawled and he immediately raised his gun. "Long time, no see Rowena."

"I know, I've been terribly busy as of late. I am left to wonder after our host, however…" she trailed off as she looked gracefully from side to side, but somehow never losing Dean and Cas in her periphery.

"Look, Rowena, this isn't a game of Clue. Crowley sent us here to kill each other, end of story. And that's what I'm gonna do." Dean resolved himself as he aimed the gun loaded with witch killing bullets at her forehead.

"If you think it'll be that easy, you are sorely mistaken." Rowena's arms flew upwards, sure and strong in their motions. Dean was captivated by their grace and the gun was ripped from his hands. An invisible force thrust him backward. His elbows caught his fall and he was met with the sharp sting of pavement breaking through fabric.

Cas sprung into action, calling forth his power and lighting the road so that the mist on the ground reflected the white light so that it looked like fresh snow had fallen.

"Go!" Cas commanded.

Dean, under cover of Cas's force, made it to the Impala, still with the girl knocked out in the backseat and skidded away. He turned back to see Rowena harnessing the opposite power from Cas, surrounding herself in darkness. The opaque pitch-blackness met Cas's light with a crash and Dean shielded his eyes from the rear-view window reflexively.

The fact that he'd been forced to look away pulled him back to the scene behind him with a renewed sense of immediacy.

Cas was sinking. By the time Dean looked back his ankles were trapped in the pavement. The solid ground had been transformed into a tar-like liquid. In a matter of seconds Cas had sunk to his waist. Dean did not slow the Impala as he sank further, with each inch his light disappeared with him.

Dean couldn't afford to mourn for Cas. Hands on the wheel, he gunned it, like he always did, towards another way. He didn't know where Rowena had sent him, or what she'd done, but they'd figure it out later.

* * *

Was it curiosity that drew Kat to the door that night; or maybe the prospect of their far too early pizza delivery? Either way, she went. She'd been on the run so long and when Sam and Dean had come back into her life she'd sprang into action. But when they'd settled in she'd let herself grow lax, sleep, because she knew she had strength in numbers.

"That'll be $7.99."

The voice was surprisingly familiar. But all pizza boys bore some sort of anonymity didn't they? Kat looked up into a face that was new to her catalog but not easily forgettable.

"Something tells me you're not really Yates McKee," she snapped.

"I am and I'm not," he evaded, "But then again you're not actively working on your thesis are you? Professor of ancient languages working on…a Degas piece?"

"I'm proud that you saw through it," Kat lied.

"Please," he looked immensely sad, "please don't pretend like this is going the way you planned."

"And make your life easier? I think not," Kat growled defensively.

"Hey is the pizza—" Sam entered and froze.

"Its not pizza."

"Hallowed ground. You're a pagan creature, you can't come in here," commanded Sam

"I'm a human, that can go wherever my deal dictates." Yates entered with a trembling leg over the threshold of the church. Sam immediately snapped into action. He grabbed the gun lying helpless on the counter but Yates had already held his own weapon up and pointed at Sam. He jerked it slightly to the left, indicating he wanted Sam to move away from his own.

His face didn't hold malice. He acted as if he was weighed down by an immense pressure. His movements labored like a puppet on a string.

"Well, well, well. Moose the guard dog. Won't brother dearest be disappointed when he learns you've failed to keep your charge safe?" Crowley sneered as he speared in the doorway. Sam was immediately thrown back against the wall by an invisible force. Kat was frozen, desperately running through scenarios in her head. No weapon. Not fast enough. The phrases repeated like a mantra as her eyes darted around for any way to distract the demon and his pet.

"Yates, if you please." The man lowered his weapon slightly and pulled out a knife. He went to each of the sigils Kat had arduously painted weeks ago and broke them. With each scratch of the knife against he wood and paint Kat felt her resolve fading with it.

Sweat beaded up on her brow and she moved her foot slightly using Yates' preoccupation as a chance. Before she could get anywhere the last sigil was broken and Crowley appeared directly in front of her.

"Where do you think you're going Katherine?"

"Don't touch her Crowley. Killing her won't stop Rowena and you know it!" Sam bellowed.

"I don't see any other way to keep her from getting her hands on the most deadly weapon in the history of witchcraft. This goes back millennia Sam. You thought Azazel gave _you_ untapped powers? I don't even want to know what's growing in there," Crowley pointed with disgust at Kat's stomach.

She felt vulnerable. Like her skin was made of tissue paper and she was so immensely small. She couldn't even muster up the strength to speak, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. There was no reasoning with the inhuman figure standing in front of her.

Fight or flight. Neither was the best option. Crowley's hot breath was on her now and Kat backed up slowly towards the wall. Her heel hit against the heavy umbrella stand next to the door.

It had been there when she'd found the church, she never bothered with it. But the image of it became clear in her mind. As if her heightened senses took her memories through a microscope. Before her back was flush against the wall she swerved to the side. Despite her short reach, she was able to grab Crowley by the scruff of the neck and force his torso downward, impaling his shoulder with what she hoped was the iron umbrella stand.

His wail of pain echoed through the tiny apartment and she ran towards the knife and Sam who had been freed from the intangible hands holding him. He, however, ran to Crowley and landed a right hook to his jaw. Crowley spat out blood and a tooth and stumbled back onto the fraying rug.

"You will never stop this Moose. I am declaring it, destiny!" Crowley barked.

Kat felt unwieldy as she hobbled to the knife and spun to brandish it at Yates McKee. He halted, holding his own weapon aloft but didn't move. The hesitance had returned, and it gave Kat a window.

She stared into his eyes, without blinking; hoping that her desperation would speak to the human part of him. "Please," she said.

He didn't respond but his mouth parted slightly. He seemed to be at war with himself.

"Yates? I'd like for you to tell me the difference between dying and never existing." Crowley's voice, though labored, rang out clear from across the room. He had Sam pinned under his forearm and he was turning increasingly purple. "You have lived Yates McKee. You have felt anger, and joy, You have a basis for comparison my dear friend. And let me tell you, of all of the happiness and satisfaction you have felt in your life will pale in comparison to the horrors you will face in Hell." His sentence was cut short by Sam smashing him over the head with a lamp he'd managed to grab and Crowley tumbled sideways.

Yates took a step forward but Kat held up her arms and began to speak. "But you made the deal. You made that deal knowing that whatever you did up here was worth that end. I don't blame you for trying o save your own life. I blame you for trying to take an innocent's to do it. I don't even care about me, Yates. If I live or die, in the end, it's inconsequential. But this child never knew what you did, never got to feel happy. And wouldn't taking that away from someone make being alive, just as bad as Hell?" Kat was desperate as she heard Sam and Crowley continue to struggle against each other.

"She'd have made a good lawyer," Crowley remarked as his eyes went red and he managed to momentarily stare at Yates with an icy intensity. Sam reached for his gun that landed on the floor when he was thrown backward by Crowley. and cracked Crowley on the temple with the butt. The eyes closed, and Yates looked back at Kat with a renewed purpose.

Again, fight or flight. Kat knew she wouldn't be as quick with a knife as she normally was, but if she could get away Sam could take him down.

"Sam!" she called as she tossed the demon knife through the air. His gun was still raised but he caught it by the handle and plunged it into Crowley's shoulder, pinning him to the floor. He fired a hasty round into Yates' leg. As a result, the attacker screamed and dropped the gun held weakly in his hand, but kept gunning for Kat who had just reached the door to her room.

Time was moving at a glacial pace. Everything was painfully slow, and yet, still happening simultaneously. Sam and Yates' steps fell at the same time.

Kat felt pressure around her wrist and was yanked backward, just as Sam fired another shot. The bullet pierced Yates' shoulder as he jerked back to avoid the guns trajectory. It did not cause him to loosen his grip. Kat fought back as hard as she could but her asymmetric form threw her off balance and she staggered closer to Yates.

Just as Sam's last shot lodged itself in his chest, Yates McKee's knife plunged into Kat's back. He'd pulled it out of his belt in a vain attempt to finish his mission, and therefore securing his bargain.

Yates slumped and Kat couldn't help but feel pity for the man. She couldn't feel the pain, so she had to supplement it with something right? Feel something rather than loss. She knelt on the ground and clutched at her back to staunch the waterfall of blood. Sam moved in and out of her vision which was rapidly fading. She did see him grab a can of spray paint and quickly draw up a devil's trap over Crowley's limp body.

When he got to her, she couldn't hear anything. Nothing but the noise of her own voice reading aloud. She couldn't be sure if it was from a memory but the words impacted her just the same. Instead of noise, there was harmony; it was the music of her present.

* * *

Sam had no idea what to do. He knew what he _should_ do, but he couldn't remove himself from the grisly image before him. Kat lying across the backseat of her Focus. "You're gonna be okay alright? Just stay awake." No response. "You don't have to say anything Kat, just stay awake for me." His words rebounded off a lifeless body but he kept throwing them at her.

He burst through the doors with her in his arms and gave her up, knowing that maybe the nurses could do what he had been unable to.

Sam left a bloody thumbprint on his phone as he dialed Dean's number.

* * *

A/N: Many gracious apologies my dear readers. I wish I had a worthy enough excuse for the long wait for this chapter. It may have had something to do with Daredevil season two... I hope that you'll forgive me and enjoy reading! I also forgot to mention that my song-spiration for last chapter was Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues, a very Winchester song. As always, I implore you to give some sort of feedback. What do you like, dislike, want more or less of? I'd love to hear. -Kelly


	26. Chapter 26

Dean, covered in blots of blood that looked like blooming peonies on his flannel smashed open the doors to the Emergency Room of the Richard T. Benedict Memorial Hospital. It was 4:00 a.m. So the small town ER had two drunks-one with a fork through his hand- and Sam in its waiting room. A nurse bustled past them and threw a zip up with the hospital's logo on it, to Sam who caught it numbly. He stood up, to put it on and then he noticed Dean.

His eyes filled with dread of his older brother's wrath and Sam straightened up to his full height before starting to say, "Dean." He held out his hand acting as counsel to his brother who began pounding forebodingly towards him.

Dean stopped for a split second and saw why the nurse had given Sam a change of clothes. His shirt was drench in sticky, congealing blood. It was so wet and fresh that it looked black against the gray shirt. The sight made Dean nauseous and the only way he could process his repulsion in that moment was to land a hard punch directly to Sam's jaw.

The two drunk men jumped and watched as intently as their alcohol-addled brains would allow.

Nurses rushed over to stand between Dean and Sam. The latter had not retaliated, feeling too much guilt that he had almost welcomed the attack. Dean tried to get at Sam once more, by side-stepping the tiny nurse but when he saw the broken defeated look in his little brother's eyes, he couldn't find the strength.

"It's okay, it's okay," Sam placated as Dean's posture fell, "This is my brother, he's Katherine's—" Sam stopped speaking, at a loss of what to label Dean and Kat because their reconciliation was on the mend, and may have just been ended.

"Husband," Dean finished, without a second thought, "Kat, she's… she's my wife."

"Ok well, then sir. We have your brother's statement; we're going to need to take one from you and—"

"I don't have time for a statement, I have to see her—"

"You don't need to do anything of the sort! She has been in surgery for an hour already and will be, for God knows how long. When we know something, you will know something. Until that time, you will stay put and give us your statement." The nurse shuffled away for the paperwork and Dean did not push further because he knew he'd need her for information later.

He rounded on Sam. "What the hell happened?!"

"Crowley happened, Dean. The whole thing was a trick. He used the guy because he owns his soul. He wasn't anything supernatural, just some guy who desperate to break his crossroads deal. You should've seen his face when he did it, it was like it was happening to him too," Sam rambled.

"What. Did Crowley. Do?" Dean questioned through gritted teeth.

Sam's eyes filled with regret and sorrow. "He offered the guy his soul free from Hell...if he killed her. So he stabbed her, in the back. It went in really deep man, there was a lot of blood. I got there as quick as I could, and it definitely threw his aim off but…" Sam's voice cracked from the strain of the emotion weighing down on him.

Dean was feeling the same weight. It was localized on his shoulders like a rod with bundles at each end, cutting into him with pain that transformed into regret. He slunk down into the hard, waiting room chair, placed his elbow on his knee. His hand was like a catcher's glove for the overflow of emotions from his head. Rage, joy, despair, remorse, shame, pride, love. All of these things swelled up inside Dean. He refused to let grief take hold; grief was something for the dead, and Kat was not that yet.

"Where's Cas?" Sam asked, just noticing the angel's absence.

"Gone. Rowena zapped him with some spell or something, I don't know." Dean stared at the door that said

"Well, we've gotta find him. He can make this right."

"Get changed, I can't look at her blood anymore. Then we can talk," Dean said dismissively.

It took Sam less than two minutes to remove the soggy shirt and report back to Dean whose position hadn't changed.

Dean sensed his approach and started speaking. "I last saw Cas when we rendezvoused with Rowena at a closed-up diner down the highway. It looked like she sent him back upstairs, so I'd start with a summoning spell," Dean said, his voice augmented with thankfulness that the smell of the iron in Kat's blood was no longer lingering.

"Ok. And you'll wait here? Call me with any updates," Sam said by way of goodbye, thankful for a purposeful mission.

* * *

Three hours went by as the nurses heartlessly ignored Dean's stare. The drunk men were gone and Sam had only just gotten all the ingredients needed for the summoning spell. With each passing moment, Dean felt farther and farther from Kat. It was like her essence was slipping away on a cloud of distance that was fueled by negligence.

As if whoever was on high heard Dean's dazed musings, a woman in lavender scrubs, a lab coat, and a matching scrub cap entered the waiting room, holding a clipboard. She looked around like there was a sea of people waiting for news of loved ones but then her sight fell only on Dean. The room's lone occupant, surrounded by quiet desperation as company.

The doctor had seen that look a hundred times; she hoped it didn't work out the way cases like this usually did.

She walked towards him and prepared to lead with the good news because in experience it softened the blow of the bad.

"I assume you don't know much about what happened to your wife?" She had intended to tell this man his news and attend to other patients, but as she got closer she saw his eyes glowing green, and lost. He probably hadn't even seen the girl named Katherine Taveras since even before the mugging—which is what Sam had told them happened—and she couldn't help but feel pity for this man's lack of quarter.

Dean opened his mouth to answer but stopped, unsure of what to say. The unspoken words stood for those that he would've said and the doctor continued, "Well she was stabbed in her lower back. There is a bad and a good side to that—"

"Glass half full, huh?" grumbled Dean, regaining some of himself.

"There has to be." She smiled. "Now the good side is that the blade, though deep, did not pierce the uterus as much as it could have, it was just as a precaution that we delivered your son," she looked at her watch, "at 6:52 this morning. Now he is a few weeks early, so we're keeping him under observation to monitor his lung function. But other than that he is healthy…"

Dean was only half listening to her continued explanation of his condition. All he'd heard was; son, and healthy. "A son." Dean said in disbelief.

The doctor smiled kindly, "A son." Dean exhaled loudly and full of relief. "Now, for the more complicated patient," she started guiltily, "Your son was not injured in the attack because Katherine's liver blocked the blade. Now the liver regenerates on its own so it's not that we're worried about it healing, it's how much fluid leaks out as it does. We have it draining, and she's stable. But we're monitoring for hemorrhage and a number of other complications that could present themselves." She finished.

"Can I see her?" Dean asked roughly, building up the dam the prevented weakness from flowing.

"Absolutely," said the doctor standing and gesturing to a nurse, "Sharon will take you to her room, Mr…" she searched.

"Oh, Jim. Jim Morrison," Dean lied smoothly.

She chuckled ironically, "It makes sense now."

"What does?" Dean asked as they walked at an even pace to the nurse's station.

"Katherine was conscious for a few minutes after your son was born. Well, long enough to say 'James' which we assumed was to be his name; and your name is James, that's why she did it. Jim, short for James, right?" she explained.

"Oh, uh, yes, that would be it," Dean agreed. In truth, he had no idea why Kat had said that name but in this moment it was the least of his worries.

It was like being underwater for an extended period of time, begging desperately to take in air, and finally, the release comes, and all of the senses that were missing bombard you again.

Dean stood in the doorway of the room. Kat lay there flat, abdomen depressed and tubes protruding from under the blankets and an unknown origin. The machines provided a constant dependable sound. Dean swallowed hard and tasted the copper of his own blood; the remnants of his fight with Rowena.

The nurse Sharon graciously held the door to enter but he didn't need it. It would have burst through a brick wall, had it been there.

He hurried to the side of Kat's bed and said, "Come on Captain Badass. Get up. You're better than this."

Dean moved swiftly closer and grabbed her inanimate hand and clutched it, trying not to let the image get the best of him. Her face was pale, like someone had boiled hot water and didn't leave the tea bag in long enough; then poured a healthy helping of milk into the mug. There was slight bruising under her eyes from blood loss. Her comatose state did not seem peaceful. Dean would've given anything to kiss away the crease that had made its home on her forehead.

He sat there for another hour. Nurses had come in from time to time, assuring him that she would wake, and to give her time. Dean still had his hand lain across hers. He counted the beats of her heart and watched her breathing regain a proper rhythm.

Her eyes didn't open. But a hoarse, low, rumble came from her throat.

"Sam. Is he ok?" Kat croaked. It was the most beautiful, and unattractive sound he'd ever heard her make.

He sprung up to his feet and leaned over her bed. "He's fine, he's fine," he said through a huge smile. He placed the kiss on her forehead then, and immediately the cavernous crease vanished.

Her eyelids fluttered only making it open about a centimeter before shutting and trying again.

"Have you seen him?"

Dean knew exactly the 'him' she meant and responded, "Not yet."

"I'm sorry," she started.

"Shut up," Dean cut her off.

"I've only ever been in the hospital once in my life," she started, and Dean leaned in closer to soak up all of her precious words.

"With me, it's not a question of when I was there, it's the times I definitely should've gone," he replied lightly. Her cheeks twitched slightly, attempting a smile.

"I had a staph infection and since I was little, like 5 or 6, it was really bad. I don't remember much of it but I do remember the look on my uncle's face. I never understood it until now; the combination of hopelessness and certainty that things would get better. I felt that way when he was born and I never want to feel like that again," she started sniffling and looked dead into Dean's green eyes. "So, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I named him without you. I don't want you to feel helpless or left out…"

"Stop it, stop," Dean said placating her with small pecks on her knuckles and one hand reached out to cup her chin. It didn't do any good, however, because he felt the wetness of tears sneaking into his palm.

"I just didn't want to die without knowing his name," she sobbed, "I didn't want _him_ to die without having one."

"Well he's good, you're gonna be ok. I'll make sure of it, ok?" She calmed herself slightly. "How'd you land on James by the way? …Not my first choice," Dean finished, using his charmer's smile.

Kat grinned lopsidedly. "It was the weirdest thing. As I felt the knife, I started, like, replaying that poem I read to you a million years ago, in my head. I was just thinking, 'this really is the music of what happens,' and the author of that poem's name is Seamus and James is the anglicized version—"

"Woah, woah, woah. Too complicated. I was really hoping it was a cool reason, because of Jim Morrison or something, because that's totally the alias I gave them."

"We could…make his middle name Dean. Keep it in the family and then he'd be James…Dean…" Kat joked. "Nothing says cool like James Dean."

"His nickname could be lil bastard," Dean suggested.

"So…does that make you big bastard?" Kat said slyly.

Dean gave her a reproving glance, and smiled tightly, just glad to have her back. Her voice was frail and she was still ghostly white.

"Where is Sam anyway?"

"Looking for Cas, so we could use his grace to heal you,"

"What happened when you went to look for the creature? What was there? Because Crowley showed up with him at the church."

"Rowena showed up looking for Crowley too. She was pissed at Cas for the stoning move so she snapped her fingers and he vamoosed. Kind of like she sent him back to Heaven. Sam's been trying to track him down," Dean explained.

"No such luck? We can't stay here. Not only are we exposed but we're putting all these people at risk." Kat's face held so much determination Dean thought she'd try to get out of the bed.

"I know. I'm gonna get you and James out of here. And we're gonna take Rowena down once and for all."

"Crowley too. He wants James dead so that Rowena can't use him to open the portal and summon her freaky mythical monster army," Kat amended.

"Well, we're gonna take them both out."

"Yeah," she stopped midway and took a labored breath, "I'm not exactly in peak physical condition." Her face started to curve downward as worry crept back into her features. Her breathing came a little harder and one of the machines picked up its pace forebodingly. Dean eyed Kat cautiously. He saw her eyes droop and her mouth fall open demurely and the monitors went into a frenzy.

Before Dean had the chance to yell out for help the room was flooded with orderlies and nurses. They barked orders, disconnected the rebellious wires, and wheeled Kat away without a second glance.

Exhausted feet followed them into the hallway. "Hey, what's going on, where are you taking her?!" called Dean. He was detained by an orderly the size of Sam.

"Sir, we believe there might be a uterine hemorrhage, you can wait in her room and we will give you information as soon as we get it,"

Dean stalked back into the room. He paced vigorously, running his hands through his hair to give them something to do. He whipped out his phone and dialed Sam's number and got no answer. Several painful seconds later he got no answer again. Three or four tries later he gave up, flinging the phone on the hard, pleather chair he'd pulled up to the bed.

He exhaled forcefully and continued pacing with his hands at his waist and his head hanging, feeling the gravity of fading hope.

A small tap on the door preceded its opening and a small blonde nurse, wearing scrubs with dancing teddy bears on them entered. "Mr. Morrison, they just took your wife into surgery to fix the bleed. The doctor will come in afterwards and debrief you. But, I'm from pediatrics, and I thought you might like to spend some time with your son?" She posed the statement as a question, innocently waiting for a response.

It dawned on Dean that there were two people that needed him now.

"Yeah, actually, I would," Dean said bravely.

The young nurse disappeared for a minute a reappeared with a glass case on wheels. To Dean, it looked like something out of Jurassic Park.

He backed up into the uncomfortable chair and sat as she opened up the chamber and reached in for a very small squirming figure wrapped all in white. Dean paused for a moment to think about what way he should hold out his arms. The nurse smiled kindly and moved his left arm down and his right up and placed the little alien between them.

"He's been restless since they brought him to the NICU. If you need anything you can just press the button on the leg of the incubator and I'll come, ok?"

Dean just nodded and she left the room graciously.

He looked long and hard at the little face peering at him. It didn't look much like anyone, except for the full head of black hair which was obviously Kat's doing. He looked like his own person; an individual. Dean was actually scared of him. Terrified really, of this—he looked to the incubator at his ID card—5 lb and 2 oz, human being.

Just then the fidgeting alien opened his eyes. Dean felt paralyzed as eyes that matched his own green ones locked onto him, seeming to take in every pore and wrinkle on his face.

"What are you lookin' at little man?" Dean scolded gently.

A vibrating from Dean's pocket disrupted their first moment together and James grunted and kicked against the sensation tickling his feet.

"Alright dude, slow your roll," Dean said as he fished the phone out of his pocket. He checked the caller ID; Sam.

"Where are you. Did you find Cas?" Dean questioned, softly because of James.

"The summoning spell isn't working. I've been waiting for an hour and I drove around too, to see if he crash landed somewhere else, but nothing," Sam said his voice full of stress. "I managed to get Crowley in a devil's trap. He's still at the church. Should I go back and make him talk?"

"No. Kat's….Kat's not doing good man. They just took her in for surgery again and we need a fix now. We can worry about icing Crowley later. The important thing is her," Dean ordered.

"Ok, do we send out a mass prayer?" Sam asked, clambering for

"No, those douches don't care, one of those holy rollers have to be willing to go rogue."

"Barachiel? He helped once before."

"Yeah. Send him up a message," Dean ordered, practically licking his lips with intensity.

"And…any word on the baby?" Sam's voice tread softly over the question. He knew that the answer could be the worst possible one and that it could be the thing that pushed his brother over the edge. It left Sam wondering how much of an impact the child had already made on their lives.

Dean looked down at James who had settled into a light sleep curled into his elbow.

"Dude, he's like a little alien. They brought him in an 'incubator' and I feel like I'm on Isla Nublar with Jeff Goldblum making dinosaurs." himself to Dean allowed himself to heave a sigh of relief as he spoke.

Sam laughed, elated for the first time in the night. "So he's good then?"

"Unless I break him. He's…he's so small dude. I don't know what to do with him," confessed Dean.

"You just gotta be there for him. If there's anything you can do, it's take care of people. And don't go blaming yourself for Kat either. We're gonna fix this, I'm gonna call Barachiel," assured Sam.

"Thanks, Sammy," said Dean quickly and he hung up the phone.

* * *

Sam pulled up to the church and looked for a second at its innocence. He willed himself inside. There, amongst the overturn tables and spilled juice, there was Crowley, still unconscious. An unbridled fury filled Sam and he found himself clutching the demon knife and holding it over Crowley's chest. Every muscle tense, his brain was filled with violent imagery.

Of all the years he'd known Crowley, he'd done more harm to them than most. Now here he lay completely at his mercy, and Sam could end it all.

But something stopped him. He could feel the sweat pooling in his palm that was wrapped around the knife but he couldn't move. He thought of Kat and what awaited her if she survived this; how they'd never get a line on Rowena if Crowley were dead. His arms fell and he exhaled with them.

The rage had diffused and there was a barrenness left in its wake. This is what pulled him to the old dilapidated chapel.

Day was broke and the sun shone with its full strength through the broken stained glass panels, leaving scattered blue and red shadows on the floor.

"Barachiel? It's Sam, Sam Winchester. I don't want you to think that I'll only call when we need help but…Kat, she's not doing well and my brother, he can't do without her right now," he said with desperation slipping into his tone.

"I do not blame you, Sam Winchester, for calling. It is after all what angels exist for; to help. Those that have humility when asking will always receive an unfailing response."

The angel had appeared before Sam had finished his sentence. He had changed since the last time they saw each other. Absentmindedly it occurred to Sam that not all angels were Cas.

Each had their own personality, whether they accessed it or not, and Barachiel certainly did. He was wearing a pair of nicely pressed blue jeans, a green polo, and a brown corduroy sport jacket.

"Thank you," said Sam. "It was the demons, they found us—" Sam began.

"And the child?" Barachiel asked abruptly.

"I haven't seen him."

"Interesting," the angel mused, "if anything can be done, it shall." And he was gone.

* * *

Meanwhile, Dean had drifted off. The shuffling of shoes and the creak of a gurney wheel awoke him and he went to reach for his knife but stopped as he realized his movement was causing James to squirm in his sleep.

The nurses reattached Kat to her machines and Dean watched from across the room, moving was impossible because each slow motion he made to get closer left the baby squiggling like an unearthed worm.

He felt awkward and vulnerable in his position in the armchair. His legs open and his bottom half slid far enough down the chair that he could rest his head on the back.

Finally, the doctor from earlier came in carrying a clipboard. She placed it at the edge of the bed and looked back at Dean, with a smile that was both proud and pitiful.

"How is she?" he promptd.

"Well, she pulled through a second time. We're pumping her full of blood, and with the second surgery we were able to find the remaining bleeders. Now it's just a waiting game. I can't promise, but we're hopeful." She saw Dean's face fall. He was entirely too accustomed with having hope dashed to pieces and didn't trust her prognosis. "If there's anything I've come to learn, it's how different humans are. Each body works and reacts in their own way. And so far, she hasn't given up," she finished, trying to bring him some consolation during what should've been a happy time.

She took her leave and Dean sat now wide awake in the dimly lit room. The only source of light was a fluorescent bar at the head of Kat's bed. It framed her perfectly.

A soon as Dean heard the whoosh of wings he snapped to attention.

"Cas!?" he said in a hushed voice.

"No. Barachiel." Dean hid his disappointment that it wasn't Cas. It took Barachiel a few seconds to walk to the chair where Dean had set up his vigil.

In that time he did not look at Dean once, merely at James. Dean couldn't explain why it made him feel uncomfortable, but he sat up ready for anything that might come between him and his child.

Barachiels fingers deftly ran across James' forehead as he muttered something in Enochian.

"What did you do?" Dean asked as the angel began to walk away.

"I do not doubt your ability to protect him. I doubt his ability to stay safe," said Barachiel with unwavering certainty.

"So you're expecting trouble?"

"I am saying that it is out of our hands; additional warding can only help." He got to Kat's bedside and his wrinkled face fell. Whatever he could see made each of them deeper. The hands that had gingerly touched James' forehead moments before worked their way over the length of Kat's body, hovering an inch above it.

"She will need rest."

"But can you fix her?" Dean asked impatiently.

The angel did not answer, but simply moved back up to Kat's chest. Placing both hands on it, the mumbling started again but this time, the room was filled with a momentary flash of yellow light. The machines whirred wildly but settled into a normal rhythm seconds later. Dean couldn't wait any longer and as carefully as he could he placed James' back into the incubator. The boy's eyes opened momentarily as he sleepily fought off the surrounding noise.

As Dean got to Kat's side, Barachiel stepped back.

"She will wake soon, let the grace to do its work. Call your brother, you cannot stay here."

* * *

In the whirlwind of vanishing angels and a hopefully reappearing Kat, Dean stood pacing. He had hoped Kat would, at least, be conscious, so the doctors and nurses weren't so attentive. They had come into her room every thirty minutes to check vitals (which were miraculously improving) but Dean needed a clear path.

Seconds later Sam appeared through the door holding a car seat covered mostly with a blanket and to the innocent eye, had supplies sticking from it.

"Hey," he said upon entry.

"Hey, he's asleep so we gotta move fast. We don't want crocodile tears during your prison break," Dean instructed. Sam moved quickly as he could in emptying the various t shirts he'd balled up, and a bag of Doritos onto the floor.

Dean went to the incubator and opened it. James' hiccupped and his breath caught slightly at being moved. Dean gently shushed as he cradled him "Ground control to Major Tom," he said softly.

Sam laughed and watched as Dean carefully put him in the car seat and managed to strap him in.

"He's awesome, dude."

" _I_ think so," Dean draped the blanket over the seat, "I know it's not ideal. I mean he's so freakin' small. But Barachiel worked some mojo on him so he can't be too fragile right?"

"Not with angel grace inside him, that's for sure," Sam affirmed.

"I'll meet you in the back near the ambulance docks in twenty minutes. After they check her one more time,"

Sam nodded and went to the door, he opened it and looked both ways down the hall, sticking only his shoulder over the threshold.

He looked back and smiled reassuringly. "Dean, you're looking at me like this is Moses and the reeds. You'll see him in a few."

"I know, I know. Get going Pharaoh." Dean waved him out of the room. And assumed a position in the chair.

The last nurse had only just clicked the door when he sprung into action again. A wave of guilt crashed over him as he carefully removed the IV's from Kat's arm and ripped the heart monitors from her clavicle. She was so small that she seemed to be swallowed by the bed. He rested her head on his shoulder and placed his arms under her knees and arms.

The trip down the hall had Dean feeling like each step was alerting someone to his presence. Once in the stairwell, his pace quickened, knowing that he was that much closer to his goal. He'd snuck in and out of plenty of places before; it was just that he was carrying a rapidly healing stab victim in his arms that was different. He jumped the last step and Kat was jostled in his arms.

Her head pressed tighter into his chest and it was like she was inhaling him, too tired to open her eyes and recognize him any other way . Dean looked down at her and her eyes stayed shut but she whispered frailly, "where are we going?"

"You're gonna be ok, I promised remember? I'm breaking you out," Dean responded through rushed breaths.

"Aren't you a little short for a Stormtrooper?" she said. The reemergence of her old self-pushed

Dean's feet

He laughed wildly, knowing that in the empty hall no one would hear him. He kissed her forehead fiercely as he kicked open the swinging doors to the sound of the Impala roaring.


End file.
